Christmas in a Pink Sweater
by Tubular Fox
Summary: It's Christmas, and the Enterprise has shore leave on Earth. Jim decides to take Spock back to Iowa with him to spend the holidays with his family. K/S slash - Chapters 1-14 are the finished fic. 15 and up will be one-shots set in the same universe.
1. Prologue: I'll Be Home For Christmas

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Star trek or any of the song lyrics used in this fanfiction. Also, there are ides in this story that may seem simlar to Lanaea's fic 'Home'. However, I never meant to steal ideas. Thank you.

* * *

"I'll be home for Christmas

You can plan on me

Please have snow, and mistletoe

And presents on the tree

Christmas Eve will find me

Where the lovelight gleams

I'll be home for Christmas

If only in my dreams"

~"I'll Be Home For Christmas" by Josh Groban

* * *

Christmas. It had meant very little to Jim ever since he had joined Starfleet. Actually, all the word brought now was a small ache in his chest when he realized that it meant another holiday season away from his family.

Starfleet, of course, catered to no one religion, but gave everyone a winter break to fulfill religious needs. Jim wasn't a religious man by nature, but Christmas had always been one of his favorite times of the year. It was the _only_ time of the year that he and his stepfather/mother's current boyfriend could get along for enough time to gather around the fire with his mother and Sam and open presents.

He had been so busy these past few years…

This year, however, the crew of the _Enterprise_ had been cleared for shore leave on Earth. Jim knew exactly where he was going: straight to Iowa.

But there was something he had to do first.

Jim had made up his mind about the detour as soon as he caught sight of one Leonard McCoy sitting alone at a table in the mess hall with a glass of bourbon clenched in his hands and the expression of deep depression. Bones grit his teeth as a passing crewmember began to talk excitedly about going home to see his daughter for Christmas.

_Oh._

Jim bit his lip, remembering that oh yeah, Bones had a daughter. When he was drunk, Bones talked about her a lot. How cute she was, how far away she was.

How much he missed her.

If Jim missed his family on Christmas, it was nothing to how Bones felt.

"Hey," Jim said sitting down next to his friend. "How's it going?"

"Fine, I guess," Bones replied sullenly. Before Jim could say anything, he continued. "You know, Joanna's eleven this year. _Eleven._ I haven't spent a Christmas with her since she was _seven_."

The man looked so…miserable.

Jim left him to his humming of "I'll Be Home for Christmas" with a pat on the back and headed up to the bridge, idea already forming.

"Lt. Sulu, if we were to, say, head to Centaurus at Warp 7, how long would it take to get there? Hypothetically, of course."

"Our…_hypothetical_ ETA would be 2.62 days, Captain," Sulu replied with a smile. The crew of the bridge had heard about McCoy's daughter before, and they knew that she lived with her family on Centaurus. "Should I lay in a course, sir?"

"Please do, Lt."

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

The 2.62 days it took to get to Centaurus were hell. Jim didn't want to tell Bones where they were going—it was going to be a _surprise_, dammit—but it still left him with the arduous task of making sure that the good doctor didn't drink himself into a stupor before they got there. Jim wanted him to be presentable, after all.

Jim kept him busy by telling him to pack for the shore leave (as Bones was under the impression that they were headed to Earth). That backfired when Bones remembered that it would be shore leave on _Earth_, without his daughter. Jim ended up awkwardly consoling him while the man muttered about Joanna and drank alcohol.

But it was worth it.

"Doctor McCoy to the bridge," Jim called over the intercom. "Doctor McCoy please report to the bridge."

A few minutes later, Bones entered through the turbolift, muttering about incorrigible captains and something about not making house calls when the sight on the viewscreen caught his attention.

He stopped muttering and began to stare, instead.

"Jim, is that…?"

"Yup," the captain replied, clapping a hand on Bones's shoulder. "Centaurus. Come on, let's get you down to the transporter room. Aren't you glad I made you pack for shore leave?"

McCoy's face split in a happy grin as he and Jim left the bridge. The cheerful laughter of the rest of the bridge crew followed. Warm fuzzies abounded as Jim saw his friend off, waving away the gruff thanks offered, insisting only that McCoy have a nice Christmas.

"We'll be back to pick you up after our leave, Bones," he said, and then his friend was beamed down to the waiting joy of seeing his daughter again.

It was definitely worth it.

When he returned to the bridge, it was to faces full of warm smiles. Well, all except one, but Spock looked happy in his own way. It might have been the humor sparking in his eyes.

"Mr. Chekov, please set a course for Earth."

"Yes, sir," the Ensign replied happily.

"Ahead Warp Factor 6, Mr. Sulu."

"Aye, sir." And they were off for Earth. It was only then that Jim allowed himself to think of his own family. He would finally get to see them; his mom, Sam, Sam's wife Aurelan, and the kids. He hadn't met the latest one yet, but now he finally could.

"Captain."

Spock's crisp voice broke into his thoughts, and he swiveled his chair slightly to look over at his first officer.

"Yes, Mr. Spock?" A horrible feeling washed over Jim for a second. "Oh, crap. I completely forgot. Should we head to the Vulcan colony? Mr. Chekov—"

"That is unnecessary, Captain. There are no holidays celebrated during Vulcan customs at this time. Please do not trouble yourself."

Jim shifted in his seat.

"Uh, okay. So, what did you need?"

"I merely had a question. Would it not have been easier to simply inform Dr. McCoy of the ship's intended destination? It would have…saved you quite some trouble." Spock had one eyebrow raised in question.

Kirk shrugged. "Well, consider it my Christmas present to him. It wouldn't have been the same if I'd _told_ him first."

"…Fascinating."

* * *

I know, I know, it's August. But I couldn't help myself! I was listening to Josh Groban's _Noel_ and the Trans-Siberian Orchestra and got inspired. Anyway, this fic is basically everything I love to do with K/S shoved into one fic. I hoped you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope you like the ones to come. Please review!

Live long and prosper,

Tube


	2. Chapter 1: Find Our Way Home

"For we all seem to give our lives away  
Searching for things that we think we must own  
Until on this evening  
When the year is leaving  
We all try to find our way home

For we all seem to give our lives away  
Searching for things that we think we must own  
But on this evening  
When the year is leaving  
I think I would be alright  
If on this Christmas night  
I could just find my way home"

~"Find Our Way Home" by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra

* * *

The shuttle bay was a disorganized hell of hurried people shoving their way through crowds of other stressed citizens, shouts of happiness and frustration, and just a general feeling of tiredness and impatience. But Jim was exhilarated. The shuttle to Iowa left in half an hour, so he was fine to just sit on a bench and people-watch until the time came.

But it was one particular person that caught his eye.

Spock was walking crisply through the terminal, his bag in one hand. He discreetly avoided touching people whenever possible, but his mouth had set in a permanent line of quiet distaste. The direction he was heading implied only one destination: the Academy.

Jim wasn't sure what made him get up and intercept his first officer.

"Spock! Hey, wait!"

"Captain? What is it?" Spock had stopped walking and turned inquiringly toward the figure of his captain approaching through the crowd.

"First of all, call me Jim. We're off duty." Spock hesitated, but eventually nodded.

"Jim," he said softly. Kirk had to pause to shake off the…weird, warm, fuzzy feeling creeping up his spine. "Was there something that I can help you with, Cap—Jim?" Jim could pardon the slip-up. They had only been friends for about a year now. The year before that, they had been…colleagues.

"Uh, actually, I was just wondering what you were going to do over break."

"My presence has been requested to oversee several projects." Oh. Jim shifted from foot to foot uncertainly.

"Oh. Okay."

"Was there something you needed, Captain?"

"Uh, not really, actually. I was just wondering…" Spock raised his eyebrow in a 'well, get on with it' way.

"Wondering what, C—Jim?"

Jim took a breath. Okay, it was now or never. He wasn't sure why he was nervous, or even of why he was doing this in the first place, but he couldn't back out now.

"Jim?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to come with me to Iowa." He said it in a rush, like the words would choke him if he didn't get them out fast enough.

Spock was silent for a few moments.

"I must confess, Jim, that I am…unsure of your motives for asking that I accompany you to your home."

"What?" Jim was a bit thrown. What other motives could he have? He'd only asked because—

Because why?

Why had he asked?

Apparently, he was also unsure of his motivations.

Jim shrugged. "You don't have to, if you don't want to. I just…I just don't think anyone should have to spend their break doing work. And besides, my mom likes it when I bring home company."

Spock shifted uncomfortably for a moment. "I…I am uncertain how to respond."

"How about you just say yes?" Jim grinned at Spock, trying not to sound like he was pleading. He didn't know why it was so important that Spock come with him, exactly, it just was.

"You are sure I would not be intruding?"

"Hey, _I_ asked _you_, didn't I? How could you be intruding?" Spock still looked unsure. "Come on, I insist." It took another minute, but Spock picked up his bag and followed Jim to the shuttle.

"So, why aren't you spending the break with Uhura?"

Jim could tell it was the wrong question as soon as he asked it. Spock's shoulders stiffened by a barely noticeable fraction. Jim told himself he only noticed because he was looking at Spock for a reaction.

"My personal life is just that, Ca—Jim," came Spock's curt reply.

"Ooookay. Sorry." Jim went back to looking out the window of the shuttle. "Oh, damn, I forgot to ask. Did you bring warm clothes?" Spock glanced over with an expression that was bland, but affecting "Of course, you idiot," quite well.

Jim cleared his throat, fighting the embarrassed blush that was threatening.

"It's just that, seeing as it's December and everything, it's probably already started to snow and…" Jim trailed off as he realized he was babbling. "I'll shut up now."

"Snow?" Spock said it so abruptly that it caught Jim off guard.

"Yeah, snow. Why?"

"I…have never experienced snow." Jim recognized a topic change when he saw one and grabbed onto it full-force. Anything to get away from the awkwardness.

"Yeah. It snows a lot in Iowa. Gets pretty cold, too, but it'll be warm inside."

"I see."

There was silence for a few minutes.

"My…mother used to have pictures of snow in an album on Vulcan." Jim glanced over at Spock. The words had been said very matter-of-factly, but Jim could hear the slight waver in Spock's voice.

They were both saved from a reply when the shuttle pulled to a stop.

"This is where we get off," Jim informed Spock a bit too brightly. He really had no idea how to respond to Spock talking about his mother. He didn't want to say anything that might offend Spock.

Even if offense was a _human_ failing, and therefore did not affect Spock.

"We have to walk from here, but it isn't too far." Spock nodded, pulling his coat closer and tugging his knit cap down farther as they exited the shuttle. With a light heart, Jim set off down the flat, corn stalk-lined road. He only checked over his shoulder every now and again to make sure that Spock hadn't gotten lost.

The half-Vulcan seemed lost in his own world as he gazed around at the unfamiliar sights of Iowa.

They had only been walking for five minutes when the first small flakes of snow began to fall. Jim would tell himself later that he didn't _squeak_, so much as yell excitedly when he noticed. Spock would of course state otherwise.

And Vulcans never lied.

Dammit.

Nevertheless, whatever noise came out of Jim's mouth, nothing could change what happened next. Jim, completely forgetting Spock was behind him, closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

Then, twenty-seven years old or not, the captain extended his arms and began to twirl around.

Spock watched incredulously.

"Captain?" The word froze Jim in his tracks. Slowly, the captain lowered his arms to his sides. Then, with the air of a man facing his executioner, Jim turned around.

"You are not to speak of this to anyone, do I make myself clear?"

Spock quirked an eyebrow up.

"As you wish, Captain. But…might I inquire as to the nature of your previous activity?"

"It's…well…" Jim embarrassedly rubbed the back of his neck, color rising into his cheeks.

"If it embarrasses you, Captain, we do not have to talk about it."

"No, no, it's okay. It's just, it's a childish habit. Kids do it."

"Oh, I see. And therefore, as an adult, you find it embarrassing to continue to do it."

Jim nodded.

"Then why do you persist?"

Jim, who had begun to walk again, paused. "I don't know. Instinct."

"Instinct? Fascinating."

"Come on, Spock," Jim chuckled. "We're not far now. Let's get you inside."

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

The house was warm and busy. The smell of freshly baking cookies warmed Jim's spirit as he stepped inside and shrugged off his coat. Spock also removed his coat, revealing a dark blue sweater.

The hat stayed on.

"Jim!" A large, warm hand clasped down on his shoulder. "Look at you! A Starship captain already!"

"Sam! How the hell are you?" Jim wrapped his brother in a manly hug, one hand pounding him on the back. Spock stood of to the side, looking uncomfortable and hoping fervently—and illogically—that no one would try to hug _him_.

"Fine, thanks, Jimmy. And who's this?" Sam turned an assessing eye on Spock. Spock was okay with assessing. Really.

"My first officer, Mr. Spock. Spock, this is my brother, Sam."

"Live long and prosper, Mr. Kirk."

"Ah, a Vulcan." Sam raised his hand in the salute. "Peace and long life. And just Sam is fine."

"George!" a high feminine voice called from inside the kitchen. "Who's out there?"

"It's Jim, honey. And his first officer, Mr. Spock." A few seconds later, a brunette woman appeared carrying a baby and leading two more children. "Jim, you know Aurelan. Mr. Spock, this is my wife, Aurelan Kirk."

"Live long and prosper, Mrs. Kirk."

Aurelan laughed and hiked the baby up farther on her hip to free a hand to return the salute. "Peace and long life, Mr. Spock. And please, just Aurelan is fine."

Spock raised an eyebrow and turned to look at Jim, who shrugged.

"Better do what the woman says, I think," Jim chuckled. "From what I've heard she can be brutal."

Spock's second eyebrow joined the first.

"Have you been telling him horror stories, George?" Aurelan tutted, handing the baby over to Sam. "I assure you," she said to Jim and Spock, "none of it is true."

"Who's this little guy?" Jim asked, taking the baby from Sam.

"That's Peter," Sam informed him. "He's only one and a half." He gestured for the other boys to come forward. "This is Jacob, who's four, and Matthew, who's nine."

Jim crouched down in front of them. "It's nice to meet you, guys. I'm your uncle Jim."

"You're a Starfleet captain," Matthew said in awe. "Dad told us."

"Yeah!" Jacob agreed. "Will you tell us stories? Please!" The children begged, eyes becoming wide and pleading.

"Uh," Jim stalled. He glanced over his shoulder at Spock, who looked like he felt as uncomfortable as Jim did. "Sure. Spock and I could tell you some stories."

Spock looked vaguely alarmed.

Thankfully, Winona Kirk came riding to their rescue.

"Boys! Where are your manners?" Jim's mother appeared from the kitchen, an apron covering her jeans and sweater and a rolling pin in her hand. "The first batch of cookies is ready to be frosted, if you would like to help."

"Okay, Nana!" The two boys hurried off into the kitchen to frost the Santa-shaped cookies.

"I just hope they get the frosting on the _cookies_ instead of all over each other," she chuckled. When she spotted Jim in the entryway her face softened. "Jim! Oh, it's been so long since you've been home for Christmas." She hugged him tightly, and right then he didn't care if her apron was getting flour all over his clothes.

"Hey, Mom. How's everything?"

"Great, just great," she answered, squeezing him once more before letting go. "Who's your friend?"

"I am Spock," the Vulcan said before Jim could open his mouth. "It is very nice to meet you, Mrs. Kirk. Live long and prosper."

"Peace and long life," she replied with a smile. "I do hope that you'll be joining us for the holidays?"

"Yes," Jim said firmly, before Spock could deny it like he sorely looked like he wanted to. "Yes, he is."

"Wonderful!"

"Really, Mrs. Kirk, I wouldn't want to impose—"

"Nonsense. The more the merrier, right Jim?"

"Right," the captain replied, sealing Spock's doom. "I'll show you our room."

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

Dinner had passed uneventfully (for the Kirk household, at least), and soon everyone was gathered around the fire Sam had lit in the grate in the living room. Aurelan had put Peter to bed an hour or so ago, and she and Sam had taken the couch on the left. The right couch was occupied by Winona and Spock.

Jim was sitting on the rug, his back to the fire, with Matthew and Jacob sitting excitedly in front of him.

"So there I was, surrounded by Klingons on every side, all of them armed to their very teeth with disrupters and no chance of escape—"

"Oh my God, what did you do then?!" Matthew demanded.

"Yeah, yeah! What did you do then?" Jacob echoed.

"What did I do? I'll tell you what I did. I pulled out my phaser and trained it on the breastplate of the Klingon in front of me. Just as I pressed the trigger, he ducked out of the way—"

"So you missed?" Jacob interrupted.

"_No,_" Jim said patiently. "As I was saying—he ducked out of the way. _Which was just what I wanted him to do_. The beam went right over his right shoulder and hit the wire that held the bridge up."

The boys leaned forward, eyes shining.

"The bridge fell, and all of the Klingons fell, too. All…but _one._"

Jacob gasped.

"And _then_?" Matthew prompted.

"Yeah," Sam snickered, "and _then_ what happened, Jimmy?"

Jim stuck out his tongue at Sam.

"So, it was him and me. I was hanging on by my fingertips—I'd dug then into the grating, you see—and he was hanging onto my ankle. You could hear the wire at the other end straining—"

"'Cause Jim's _fat_," Sam added.

"Shut _up_, Dad!" Jacob said before Jim could even open his mouth. Jim raised an eyebrow and Sam fell quiet, gaping. "Go on," the 4-year-old urged.

Aurelan cracked up.

After they had all had a good laugh (well, Spock hadn't, but Jim could see the amusement in his eyes), Jim went on.

"So, the wires were straining. And then, suddenly, they gave out! We were falling—falling through the endless abyss. Then he fired his disrupter. I _barely_ dodged it and returned fire. The air was filled with the deafening whine of lasers."

Aurelan covered her mouth to hide her laughter.

"Just when I thought I was done for, we began to grapple and I got my communicator off his belt."

"Kirk to Enterprise!" Matthew shouted.

"Damn straight." Jim nodded, quite satisfied.

"Enterprise here, Captain," Spock said from the couch, and Jim grinned up at him. Spock had wrapped himself in a blanket and was watching Jim through smiling eyes.

Jim's heart did this weird flip-flop thing.

He shook his head. "Right. 'Beam me up! Beam me up!' I shouted as I dodged another bolt."

"'Right away, Captain. …Please stop moving,'" Spock put in from the couch.

"'I can't, dammit! I'm falling to my _death!_' I shouted back, and fired my phaser."

"'…Yes sir," Spock said helpfully.

Jim smiled at him encouragingly.

"He took aim, snarling menacingly. There was no way I could get out of the way in time."

"'Beginning beaming. Six, five, four…'" Spock called from the folds of the blanket he had pulled over his head.

"I was going to _die_. It was going to hit me before they beamed me back aboard. All they would get would be a _dead body._"

Jim wiggled his eyebrows.

"So what did you do?" Sam asked, curious despite himself.

"I took my phaser," Jim said, miming taking it off his belt, "and _shot the disrupter bolt off course._"

"No fucking way!" Sam shouted, just as Winona and Aurelan broke into peals of helpless laughter.

Both of Spock's eyebrows hit his hairline under the blanket.

"Whoa…" Jacob breathed.

"Yeah," Jim nodded. "It was pretty intense."

"What happened next?" Matthew asked breathlessly.

"We faced off. Both of us fired at the _exact_ same time."

"'Three, two…'" Spock continued.

"And I was transported back to the ship. But not before my phaser bolt hit him—BAM!"

Jim clapped his hands.

"Right between the eyes."

Matthew and Jacob held their breath.

"And we flew off into the stars, crisis averted. The end."

"Wow." The boys' eyes were as round as saucers.

"Tell us another!" Jacob pleaded. Jim rolled his shoulders back and stretched his arms above his head.

"I dunno…"

"Tell us about Nero! And the blow-up of Vulcan!" the young boy continued.

The room was suddenly very quiet.

"Actually, it's time for you to go to bed," Aurelan said firmly. "Say goodnight."

"'Night Dad, 'night Nana, 'night Uncle Jim, 'night Uncle Spock." Jim blinked. Uncle Spock? That was cute. He tried to distract himself with that as the kids went upstairs to bed.

"I am so sorry," Sam said as soon as they were out of hearing range. "He didn't mean it the way it sounded, I'm sure—"

"It's quite all right," Spock assured him stiffly, rising from the couch. "But if you do not mind, I think I will retire."

"No, no, of course not. You go right ahead," Winona muttered helplessly, shooting a worried look at Jim.

"I'll show you where the extra blankets are," Jim said, standing from the carpet. "In case you get cold in the night."

"Thank you, Captain," Spock said with a brisk nod. They moved toward the stairs, climbing quietly into the dark hallway above. In the light cast from the kids' open door, Jim could see that Spock's shoulders were tense. Jim had no idea what to do.

He hesitantly put his hand on Spock's shoulder.

Spock jumped slightly, tensing even further. Jim almost removed his hand, but then Spock relaxed marginally. For a moment he seemed to Jim to lean into the touch.

The captain tried to make that hand as comforting as he could.

"Jim," Spock said softly.

"Yeah?"

Spock started, as if he had forgotten Jim was there. Jim gave Spock's shoulder the slightest squeeze before he removed his hand. Spock turned to look at him.

"I was simply…correcting myself. You asked to be called 'Jim,' not 'Captain.'"

"Hey, don't stress about it." _'I want it to come naturally,'_ Jim realized suddenly. _'I want him to call me _Jim_ naturally, and have to remember to call me _Captain.' He gave a quiet, hopeless laugh. _'Yeah, like that will ever happen.'_

"What do you find amusing?" Spock asked curiously, tilting his head slightly.

"I, uh…nothing. It's nothing, Spock. Come on, let's get ready for bed."

* * *

Here we are, chapter one (or two, depending). I really like this one. I hope you did, too! Please review!

Live long and prosper,

Tube


	3. Chapter 2: Christmas In The Air

"Children stare with new found wonder  
No one dares to break the trance  
Every wish is carefully numbered  
And God has granted all a second chance  
This day

And all at once  
The dream's begun  
And as we mark the old year's passing  
Strangers greet  
On every street  
And suddenly there's goodwill everywhere  
There's Christmas in the air"

~"Christmas In The Air" by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra

* * *

The next morning, Jim introduced Spock to the concept of snowballs.

"I hardly see why you find this amusing," the Vulcan said in clipped tones as he wiped the snow off his face. During the night there had been a small blizzard that had left no less than a foot of snow.

"Try it," Jim urged. "You'll see." And so, Spock leaned over carefully, taking a handful of snow and shaping it slowly and precisely into a ball.

When Jim wasn't looking, Spock hit him in the back of the head.

"What the—hey! What was that for?" Jim was grinning, though, and Spock's eyes sparkled briefly with mirth.

"You were correct, Jim. That _was_ enjoyable."

In the end, it turned into a snowball fight. Jim, Sam, and Jacob took on Winona, Spock ("Mutiny!" cried Jim when he saw Spock join the other side), and Matthew while Aurelan and Peter officiated. Two hours later, they called it a draw when Jim noticed Spock shivering and decided that he wanted to go in.

"Quitter," Sam teased, and Jim let him think that, casting a small smile to Spock. The Vulcan nodded gratefully, unconsciously rubbing his hands together for warmth, but too proud to say anything.

"Who wants tea?" Aurelan asked as they trooped inside.

"Me," said Sam. Winona echoed the sentiment, and Spock nodded after a brief hesitation.

"All right," Aurelan said with a smile. "Tea for the adults," she said, handing cups to Sam, Winona, and Spock, "and hot chocolate for the kids." Jacob and Matthew accepted theirs happily while Jim just shrugged and smiled, wrapping his hands around the warm mug of cocoa.

"What can I say? I only drink tea when I'm sick."

Winona looked concerned for a moment.

"Are you coming down with something, Jim? After all, you haven't been out in the snow since you joined Starfleet." She reached over to feel his forehead, but he batted her hand away.

"Actually, I've been out in colder temperatures than this, Mom," he said, thinking back to his traipse across Delta Vega. The look on Spock's face said that he was remembering, too.

"Cap—Jim, if I may have a moment to speak with you?"

Jim looked over at Spock, startled. "Sure." They quietly left the kitchen, and Winona started up a conversation to give them some privacy. "What is it, Spock?"

"It is simply that I don't believe that I ever…apologized for…"He paused, trying to phrase it right.

"Jettisoning me off the Enterprise?" Jim suggested. Spock's mouth made a little, unhappy line that tore at Jim's heart. "It's fine, Spock. You did what you thought you had to. I can't fault you for that."

"No, what I did was unnecessary and a violation of Security Protocol 49.09…" Jim listened with only half an ear as Spock needlessly tried to explain his actions, recalling how he had cited the same protocol on the planet's surface.

"Spock, Spock, Spock," Jim cut in after a few minutes, "it's okay, all right? Apology accepted. It was a crisis situation and I was a disturbance. You acted accordingly." Jim's heart hurt to see Spock so down-trodden.

"Yes, but Captain—"

"Jim."

Spock glanced up, surprised. "What?"

"Call me Jim," the captain said, his eyes shining warmly. "Now come on, our drinks will be getting cold." Jim led the way back into the kitchen, resolving to have a heart-to-heart with himself later over all of these weird feelings he got around Spock.

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

That night, Jim lay awake in bed, listening to the soft sounds of Spock's breathing as he meditated. Jim tried not to move too much and disturb his first officer's concentration. Instead, he decided that maybe it was time he had the little talk he'd been promising himself all day.

'_First things first_,' he thought to himself. _'What the hell is wrong with me?'_

Okay, so maybe that wasn't as helpful an approach as he'd thought it would be.

'_Right, so…I feel really strange whenever I see Spock. I've begun to notice these little things about him, like how he folds his hands when he's sitting, and how his eyes sparkle when he's happy, and how cute he looks in a hat—whoa, whoa, slow down Jim.'_

Jim blinked quickly, wondering where _that_ had come from. _'How cute he looks in a hat? Seriously?'_ Jim shook his head, disgusted by how much that made him sound like an infatuated teenage girl.

…Shit.

No, that couldn't possibly be the reason. He was _not_ in _love_ with Spock. He just wasn't. Couldn't be. No way in hell.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't as good at lying to himself as he'd thought, either.

In fact, he was reminded of a conversation he'd had with his mom once while he was sick. When he was ill, he tended to have a driving need to have deep conversations. This one had stuck with him, even after the others had faded into obscurity.

'"_Mom?" a young Jim Kirk called from the couch. "I have a question." Winona smiled. She had been waiting for this, after all. Jim always had a question when he was sick. The boy had been stuck inside with the flu for three days already, so she'd known it was coming._

"_Yes, dear?" she asked, sitting down the armchair with her knitting._

"_You don't have to answer it, if you don't want to, Mom," Jim assured. "Really, it's okay."_

"_I'm sure it'll be fine, Jim. Ask away."_

_The boy hesitated._

"_How did you know you loved Dad?"_

_Winona nearly dropped her knitting. Jim studied her face carefully, noting the deep sadness that haunted her features._

"_You don't have to answer," he said again, softly._

"_No, no, it's all right." She smiled up at him. "How did I know I loved your father? Well, the first time I met him I thought, 'Well, now _there's_ a handsome devil.' Then, as I got to know him, I had to know all these little things about him; how he parted his hair, what his favorite things were, what he had for breakfast every day," she laughed quietly. "Even if it was the same thing every day."_

"_Oh," Jim said softly. "And..." he hesitated, glancing down at the blanket he was scrunching up in his hands. "What did he have for breakfast?"_

_Winona's heart clenched, looking at her son as he toyed with the blanket instead of looking up at her. He wanted to know about his father. More than the little things she'd told him while he was growing up. He was eight now._

"_Cornflakes," she answered with a smile. "And toast with strawberry jam."_

_Surprised, Jim looked up. "But, that's what _I_ eat for breakfast every day." He tugged at the blanket, sitting up and turning to face her excitedly. "He had it every day, too?"_

_Winona smiled and nodded._

"_And he used to tell me stories about what he did when he was little. A lot of the things he did, you do, too…"'_

Jim closed his eyes. His heart hurt. For some reason, he found himself wondering if Spock knew what his mother used to have for breakfast every day. Maybe those things didn't matter to a Vulcan, but Jim was pretty sure they mattered to Spock.

Jim had the strangest urge to tell Spock about his dad. Everything that Winona had told him. Why? Why was this happening all at once? It was overloading him.

He groaned and rolled over, burying his face in his pillow.

Across the room, Spock's eyes snapped open and worriedly fixed on the figure on the bed. "Jim? Are you all right?"

"Hmm?" Jim hummed from where he was suffocating himself with his pillow. "Yeah, I'm fine." It was muffled, but Spock could still make it out. "Sorry for disturbing your meditation."

"I was finished, anyway," Spock assured him, blowing out the candles. "May I inquire as to the source of your distress?"

Jim took as deep a breath as his position allowed.

"I was just…thinking." _Thinking about you._ He didn't say it. Couldn't say it. They weren't even properly friends yet. It would just ruin things.

He didn't know that Spock had been thinking about him, too.

"I see."

One of the things Jim liked about Spock was that the man didn't pry. It was obvious that Jim didn't want to talk about it, and Spock respected that. Vulcans were very private people.

"Well, time for bed," Jim said with false cheer. He rolled over to get up and turn the lights off. When he stood up, the world spun slightly. He told himself that he just got up too fast and started to walk toward the light switch.

He had the distinct impression that he wasn't walking in a straight line, but that was only because the floor was rocking back and forth.

Huh.

Had it always done that?

When he got to the wall, he braced a hand against it, silently commanding it to stop swaying. He was dimly aware of Spock standing up and starting toward him.

"Jim? Are you well?"

Jim opened his mouth to say that, yes, he was _fine_, but it didn't really go according to plan. In fact, nothing had been lately. The wall was still moving.

"Jim?" Spock carefully moved to lay a hand on Jim's back.

Then Jim threw up.

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

Winona was awakened by a soft tap on her door.

"Hmm?" She tiredly rubbed at her eyes. "Come in." She was quite surprised to see that it was Spock who had come to find her. "Is there something you need?"

"I apologize for disturbing your rest, but Jim is ill. He vomited."

"Oh my," Winona said softly, sliding out of bed and toeing her slippers on. "Where is he?" she asked, pulling on a robe out of habit, even though it was eighty degrees in the house out of respect for their Vulcan guest.

"The bathroom," the Vulcan answered promptly. He had escorted the captain there moments ago, before going to find Winona.

They found Jim leaning against the tub listlessly, swearing softly to himself. He was also shivering so Spock wrapped the blanket he'd been wearing around Jim's shoulders.

"Thanks," the captain muttered, pulling it closer.

"Oh, honey, how are you feeling?" asked Winona as she knelt down to rub Jim's back.

"Embarrassed," the captain sighed, shooting a glance at Spock. The first officer was standing uncomfortably in the doorway. "You can go back to bed if you want, Spock. Watching me throw up won't be all that thrilling."

After a few seconds, Spock nodded and turned to leave, worried that if he remained, the captain would be able to read the concern in his eyes.

"You can go, too, Mom. I'm twenty-seven. I should be able to handle barfing by myself."

"Nonsense. I'm your mother."

And so it was settled.

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

About an hour or so later, Jim shuffled back to the room. As soon as he'd shut the door behind him, he was braced by a warm hand on his elbow.

"Captain. Are you well?" Spock gently led Jim over to the bed vacated previously and lowered him down into a comfortable position.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Well…better, anyway." Jim shifted slightly, unconsciously flicking his tongue over his bottom lip. Then he sighed and closed his eyes.

There was silence for a moment.

"Do…do you require anything, Jim?"

The eye that Jim snapped open revealed a Spock who was awkwardly shifting his weight back and forth on his feet. His face was tinged green.

Jim didn't know what to say. Any request he might've had had fled from his brain the minute he'd opened his eyes.

"You're face is green," he said instead, intelligently.

Spock's eyes widened marginally. Then he cleared his throat.

"If you do not require anything, Captain—"

"No, no," Jim said quickly. "I didn't mean to offend you, Spock. It's just…" He squinted at Spock. "Does it always do that?"

Now, during the conversation, the green tint had been fading. …It was back now.

"No, Captain. This rarely ever occurs," Spock informed him stiffly.

"Oh."

More silence.

"Will it stop?"

Spock blinked. "Yes, Captain. I assure you, the condition is temporary."

Jim nodded, satisfied. "Okay, then. It's not dangerous, is it?"

A sigh. "No, Captain."

"Jim."

"Captain, is there anything you require at this time?" Spock's intention was clear: CHANGE THE SUBJECT. Jim decided to just go along with it, for now.

But that did not mean the subject was dropped. Far from it.

"Water?" the captain suggested hopefully. Spock nodded tersely and set off to fetch the desired glass of liquid. When he returned, Jim gratefully accepted it, sipping it slowly.

Spock crossed the room to sit on the cot that had been set up for him.

"So, why was your face green? I mean, is that natural?"

Spock's shoulders stiffened momentarily before he sighed. "You will not drop the subject, I presume?"

"Nope," Jim informed him cheerfully. "So, you can either answer me now, or deal with me asking _all night_. And I'm not tired."

"It has to do with Vulcan biology."

"You mean like se—"

"No, Captain. That is _not_ what I mean. Not in the slightest."

Jim slumped down a bit in his bed. "Okay. So, what other kind of biology?"

"Vulcan blood is green, Captain," Spock said, as if this explained everything. And, perhaps if Jim had been at full mental capacity, it would have. But not tonight.

"So? Your face isn't green _all_ the time. Why now?"

Spock closed his eyes with an expression of long-suffering.

"It is nothing of consequence, Captain. I insist that you rest."

"Okay," the captain muttered to himself, "so what makes blood rush to your head? Huh…"

"I am turning the lights off now, Captain. Goodnight."

"'Night, Spock," Jim muttered distractedly. "Okay, fever. Fever? Fever! Spock!" Jim shot up so he was sitting straight. "You're not sick are you? This _is_ your first time in snow. Oh God, I'm a horrible host! I made _both_ of us sick!"

There were warm hands on his shoulders easing him back down. A voice was softly instructing that he not strain himself.

"Please, Jim, lay down. I am performing at optimal capacity, thank you. I am _not_ sick. _Lay down._"

Finally, Jim's struggles subsided. "Not sick? Oh, okay." Jim set his head down on the pillow. Spock moved to return to his own bed, but found his sleeve securely grasped by the captain's hand.

"Captain—"

"Hmm? Yeah?" Jim looked innocently up at him. "What can I do for you, Mr. Spock?"

"…Are you feverish, Captain?" Spock debated whether or not he should check the captain's forehead.

"Feverish? Yeah." Jim nodded absently. "Mom said so."

"I see. Then I shall not hold you to any of your words or actions until you are well," Spock said, almost to himself. He was staring down at the hand gripping his sleeve. "Captain, would you please release me?"

"Why? I like you. I like you here better than over there. I think you should stay." Jim used his other hand to pat Spock's arm. Then, he rolled over, taking Spock's arm with him. The result was Spock awkwardly bent over his captain with his arm stuck cuddled close to Jim's chest.

"Captain," Spock said forcefully, face coloring again. "I must insist that you release me."

Jim balefully opened one eye to regard Spock's predicament.

"…No."

Jim closed his eyes again.

"Captain, this is childish. I insist that you let go of me. Otherwise, I will have to retract my arm myself, and I do not wish to hurt you."

Jim unhappily let go of Spock's arm.

"Thank you, Captain. Now, sleep."

And Jim did so.

* * *

A big thank you to all of my reviewers out there. I hope you liked this chapter!

I love this chapter, mostly because it has silly, sick Jim in it. For some reason, I've always just had the idea that Jim would be childish when he was sick. Please review!

Live long and prosper,

Tube


	4. Chapter 3: Christmas Dreams

"Let it go!  
Let it go!  
This old world that I know

For soon everything will be changing  
In a single glance  
Where it all enchants  
And every hope  
Every hope  
Every hope is worth saving"

~"Christmas Dreams" by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra

* * *

The next morning, Jim had a headache.

"Ugh," he groaned, flinging an arm across his eyes. "What the hell happened last night?"

"You became ill, Captain. I believe you should stay in bed until further notice is given."

"Spock? What time is it?"

"One p.m., Jim," the Vulcan answered precisely. "You have been asleep for approximately ten point six five seven hours."

"Only approximately?"

"Would you prefer a more precise answer, Captain?" Before Jim could say anything, Spock continued. "You have been sleeping for ten point six five seven three five two eight hours."

"…Great. Thanks, Spock." The Vulcan adjusted his hat and nodded.

"Of course, Captain." Suddenly, a voice called from downstairs.

"Are you ready _yet_, Uncle Spock?" The impatient racket coming from the four-year-old below made Jim cringe and pull a pillow over his head.

"Make him stop, Spock," Jim commanded pitifully. Spock left the room to go to the edge of the stairway.

"Please desist in your shouting. You are making your Uncle's headache worse," Spock informed the child.

"…What?" Jacob blinked up at Spock confusedly. Then, deciding it wasn't important, Jacob ran up, seized the arm of Spock's sweater, and proceeded to attempt to drag the Vulcan downstairs.

They had only gone down three steps before Jim emerged from his room.

"Unhand my Vulcan," he whispered, massaging his temple. Jacob _did_ let go of Spock, instead throwing himself forward to latch onto Jim's legs.

"Uncle Jim! Uncle Jim! Are you coming shopping with us? Huh? Huh?" Jacob screamed excitedly. Jim had to bite his tongue to stop from swearing. He squeezed his eyes shut and dug both hands into his temples.

Then Matthew came upstairs.

"Uncle Jim! Uncle Jim! Are you going to come shopping with us? Please? Please?" Nine-year-olds were just as loud as four-year-olds.

Jim whimpered slightly.

Spock clenched his hand into a fist, reminding himself that these were just children. But for some reason, the look of pain on his captain's face made him want to nerve pinch the offending loud-noise makers. Nature, however, had its own solution for noisy children.

Grandmothers.

"Boys. Stop this instant," Winona said quietly, but with an air of authority that could not be disobeyed. The children fell silent immediately. "Go downstairs and wait with you mother. Spock will be down momentarily. Okay?"

They nodded and quickly left.

"Thanks, Mom," Jim whispered, accepting Spock's supporting hand.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Winona asked, setting her hands on her hips.

"…Breakfast?" the captain said hopefully. "And drugs. Aspirin is always a plus." He shuffled toward the stairs, waving off Spock's help. "If I can't get down the stairs by myself, I fail at life."

Jim emerged from the stairwell with Spock supporting him.

"How are you feeling, Jimmy?" Sam asked quietly.

"I'll be fine once I've had aspirin. Really." He let Spock settle him into a chair at the table. "I heard Jake and Matt say something about leaving. You guys going out?"

Aurelan nodded, settling Peter into the carrier that acted as a car seat. "They want to get another present for their grandma."

It was then that Jim realized that it was four days until Christmas. And he didn't have a present for Spock. He didn't even have any _ideas_ for a present.

He groaned and set his head down on the table.

"Are you all going?" he asked.

"Everyone but me," Winona said from where she was making tea. "They even convinced your friend Spock to go."

"Did they now?" Jim asked, glancing at Spock with an eyebrow raised. "I'm impressed. How the hell did you manage that?"

"Well—" Sam began, but Spock cut him off.

"It is of no consequence. In light of the captain's condition, I believe it is more prudent that I stay here."

The kids opened their mouths to protest but Jim beat them to it.

"Bullshit. Go out and have fun, Spock. There is actually more in Iowa than corn." He smiled. "I mean it. Go on."

Spock looked like he might protest, but Jacob grabbed his sleeve and tugged him toward the door.

"C'mon. Please?"

Jim could have sworn those eyes were tearing up.

"How can you say no to that face? Go _on_, Spock. I'll be fine."

"I'll watch out for him," Winona assured Spock with a smile. "He'll be better before you know it."

Reluctantly, Spock nodded and followed the group out the door.

"Poor guy," Jim sighed, shaking his head. "They'll eat him alive."

"Oh, he'll be fine," Winona chuckled. "Do you want your tea now or later?"

"Now, please," Jim answered craving the comfort of this ritual.

"Come on, let's get you set up on the couch," Winona said, faithfully following the schedule they had wordlessly made all of the millions of other times Jim was sick.

"'Kay," Jim responded, pushing himself up from the table. When he'd sat down on the couch, Winona wrapped an afghan around him and handed him a mug of vanilla-cinnamon tea.

"There. Now, do you want crackers?"

"No, I don't think so."

"How about toast?"

Jim chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip. "Okay."

Winona returned to the kitchen, emerging a short while later with a plate of toast. She held it out to Jim, who took it and began to eat happily. She went over to the arm chair and picked up her knitting.

They sat quietly for a while, the only sound being the slight crunching of Jim and his toast.

"Jim, may I ask you something? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

Jim blinked. Usually, he posed the questions to his mother. He supposed it was only fair that she get a chance.

"Sure. Go right ahead, Mom."

"When did you know you loved Spock?"

Jim spit out the tea he was drinking. Winona looked surprised, but didn't say anything, simply handing him a napkin.

"You don't have to answer," she said again.

"No, no. It's all right. I just…it caught me by surprise, that's all," Jim said quickly, wiping off his face and dabbing futilely at the wet spot on the blanket.

"I'll get you a new blanket, Jimmy," Winona assured him, rising. "I'll be back soon. Do you want anything while I'm up?"

Jim glanced down and blushed slightly.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "He's upstairs in my suitcase."

Winona smiled and nodded, turning to go. A few minutes later she returned with a different blanket and a tattered old blue teddy bear.

"I can't believe you brought him with you. Were you planning to get sick?" She gently handed the bear to her son, switching the blankets.

"No," Jim replied defensively. "David goes everywhere with me."

"I know," his mother chuckled. "I don't know why I was surprised when you had me mail—"

"Transport," Jim corrected. "He is never 'mailed.'"

"Right, sorry. When you had me _transport_ him to you at the Academy. I should have been even less surprised when you brought him with you onto the _Enterprise_."

"What can I say?" Jim shrugged. "He's boldly going where no bear has gone before." He shifted to wrap the blanket around David as well.

"I just hope you don't get much use out of him on the ship."

"Nah. I don't get sick that much in space," Jim lied. "He has his own bed when I'm not sick." It was true. Jim had made the bear a bed in one of his drawers in his quarters. But _no one_ would ever find out. If they did, they would have to die.

"You never answered the question, honey," Winona prompted gently. Jim bit his lip and studied David's head.

The bear _was_ getting old, Jim mused as he deliberated over how to reply. He was at _least_ what, thirty-five? Jim stroked the bear's balding ear fondly.

"How old is David, Mom? I just want to know before we start talking about me and Spock."

Winona raised her eyebrow in a 'there's a _me and Spock_?' way, but opened her mouth to reply.

"He's got to be about thirty-five now, Jim. I bought him for your father about…eight years before you were born. Then he was yours since the first time you got sick. So, yes, about thirty-five."

Jim nodded, rubbing his fingers across the stitched 'Iowa' on David's left foot.

"Okay. Me and Spock." He let out a breath. "There isn't a 'me and Spock,' actually. I…just want there to be." He sighed. It was harder to admit to someone who wasn't himself. "I only just realized last night that I liked him. I've spent all morning trying to convince myself that it was a feverish hallucination. …But I was feeling fine when I thought it."

Winona crossed the room and rubbed his back comfortingly.

"How did you know you loved him?"

Jim leaned back into the touch, shoulders relaxing somewhat. "I, well I thought back to that conversation we had all those years ago. You know, the one about Dad…"

"Yes, I know. And it helped?"

"Yeah. I realized that I knew all of these things about Spock that were, well, kinda stalker-ish. I mean, is it weird that I know how he holds his hands when he's thinking? How I notice when his eyes sparkle when he's amused? Or how they turn hard when he's angry?"

"Of course not, dear," Winona assured him. "That's love."

Jim shook his head in despair. "I still don't know what to get him for Christmas!" He hugged David closer, hoping the bear would help him just one more time. David had always been a great source of inspiration.

Nothing.

When he glanced over at his mother, she was staring at him through slightly teary eyes with one hand over her heart.

"Oh, sweetie, that's so nice!" she gushed. Jim cleared his throat and looked away, sufficiently embarrassed. God, why did she have to do that? It was bad enough as it was!

"_Mom_," he protested. "Stop it, okay?" He whacked her lightly with his pillow to snap her out of it.

"But Jimmy," she gasped, pretending to be hurt, "you're finally in _love_. A mother spends her whole life waiting for this day."

"Yeah, yeah," Jim griped. "Well, stop it anyway, okay? It's not like I'm ever going to _do_ anything about it. He's straight." Before Winona could say anything either way, Jim suddenly stiffened. "I'm going to be sick."

Hastily, Winona handed him the trashcan.

There was a knock at the door. Winona glanced over, wondering who it could be, but she didn't want to get up and leave Jim all alone.

"Don't worry, Mom," the captain murmured. "David can take care of me for a few minutes." Winona nodded and picked up the bear from where he had fallen to the floor, settling him next to Jim's bent form as her son pitched forward to vomit again.

"Hello?" she asked, opening the door. It was much too soon for Spock and the others to be back.

"Hello, Mrs. Kirk," said the bright young woman in the doorway.

"Oh, hello, Jennifer. How are you?" Jennifer was the daughter of their neighbor. Winona knew she was sweet on Jim.

"Please, call me Jenna. I'm fine. How are you?"

"Very well, thank you." Years ago, back when Jim was very young, Winona had thought it was so cute that the two kids would run around holding hands. Jenna and Jimmy. It had worked perfectly. But now, Jim was in love. Winona was worried that Jenna had never gotten over him.

"Well, I'd heard from Dad that Jim was back visiting, and I thought I'd stop by and say hello." Jennifer smiled embarrassedly. "I mean, I know I should have called first. Is this a bad time?"

"Well…yes, actually. Jim is rather…under the weather," Winona said gently.

"Oh no!" Jenna gasped, bringing a hand up in front of her mouth. "Is he all right?"

"He'll be fine," Winona reassured. "He's just—"

"Who's at the door, Mom?" Jim interrupted, appearing behind her.

"Jim! Oh, how are you feeling?" Jenna asked, concern leaking out of every word.

"Honestly? Like shit," the captain answered. "But I've felt worse." Yeah, this was a gentle massage compared to how he'd felt after Spock had beaten the crap out of him.

"Whether you've felt worse or not, I want you back on the couch. Understood?" Winona commanded. Jim held up a placating hand.

"I was just going. See you later, Jen. When I feel better."

"Okay, Jimmy," she replied, smiling. "I hope you feel better soon. Goodbye."

And the door was closed.

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

Spock was the first one through the door. "Captain," he said immediately, "how are you feeling?" He was carrying two shopping bags. Jim wondered if he had actually bought anything himself or had just been roped into carrying things for the others.

Spock was polite, so it might be the latter.

Or, maybe he'd bought a gift for Uhura. Jim didn't know if she celebrated Christmas, but she might. Spock would know. His heart sank a little as he considered it.

"I'm great, thanks, Spock," Jim said with a wan smile. Spock considered him for a moment.

"You are lying, Captain." Spock set the bags down on the kitchen counter and walked purposefully to stand in front of Jim. Then, he raised his hand and set in lightly on Jim's forehead. Satisfied, he let it drop with a nod. "You are no longer feverish."

"Yeah, sorry. About last night, I mean." Jim rubbed the back of his neck embarrassedly and fussed with the hem of his shirt.

"You recall the events of last night?" Spock asked. His cheeks got the faintest hint of green.

Winona ushered Sam, Aurelan, and the kids around the other way, to give them some privacy. She had no idea what had happened last night, but if Jim's reaction was anything to go from, it was private.

"Only up to accusing you of being sick. Sorry I didn't let it drop."

"It is nothing for you to concern yourself over, Captain," Spock assured, face coloring another shade. He didn't understand what was happening. If he was losing his control this easily, maybe he should meditate more. But, it only seemed to happen around Jim.

Most fascinating.

"Hey, it's doing it again!" Jim was leaning forward in order to get a better look at Spock's face. "And you're sure that's natural? I've known you for two years, and I'm only seeing it now."

"It has to do with blood, Captain. We went over this last night," Spock said stiffly.

"Oh, yeah, I remember. Wait." Jim's eyes widened to an almost comical capacity and his mouth dropped open.

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"You're blushing. Oh my _God_, you're _blushing!_" Jim had leaned in so close that in another centimeter, their noses would be touching. As soon as he realized this, he flushed and pulled back.

"As are you, Captain. But I must point out, I am not…'blushing.' My face is simply flushed from the cold outside."

"…Bullshit." And they left it at that.

"Uncle Jim! Is your tummy better?" Jacob asked, slipping past the Winona barricade. He latched onto Jim's hand and began to rock back and forth.

Now it was Jim's turn to become faintly green.

"Please desist," Spock informed the child, removing Jake's hands from the captain. Jacob moved off a bit sadly. "Jim, are you—"

"I'm going to be sick," Jim informed him, and promptly was. On Spock. Spock looked faintly surprised, but ignored it and helped Jim back over to the couch.

As soon as the nausea had subsided, Jim glanced up.

"Oh God, I'm sorry, Spock." Faintly green and miserable, Jim looked blearily up at him. "I didn't mean to—"

"Captain."

"I mean, oh God I'm such a crappy host—"

"_Captain_."

"And I'll understand if you want to leave and everything—"

"Jim!" Spock cut in. The captain looked up at him in despair. "Please refrain from talking at the moment and allow me to go change. We can continue this needless conversation upon my return, should you so desire."

Jim nodded and Spock turned to go upstairs and change. Winona followed after the slight delay of sitting Jim back against the couch with the trashcan close by and tucking David under his arm.

She knocked quietly on the door.

"You may enter," Spock called. Winona quietly turned the handle.

"It's me," she said, stepping in. "I came to apologize for Jim. He really doesn't want you to leave."

"It was never my intention to do so," Spock calmly said. He glanced down at the sweater he'd been wearing. Winona held out her hand.

"I'll take it. We'll put it in the wash."

Spock nodded, handing it over. He was then faced with a problem, however. He had only brought two sweaters; one was wet from playing in the snow (it couldn't be put in the dryer) and now this one was…dirty. He just told himself that he would wear a blanket. It really wasn't a problem.

"Oh my," Winona said sadly. "You don't have anymore sweaters. You'll get cold."

"That is not the case, Mrs.—Winona. I will simply, with your permission, of course, appropriate a blanket for the time being."

"Of course, if you want to. But that will be mighty inconvenient for you, won't it? I think I might have a sweater you can borrow." Mind made up, Winona headed to her room after dropping the sweater down the laundry chute, waving away Spock's quite protests.

"I really would not want to impose," Spock said as they entered.

"Nonsense. What kind of host would I be if I let you be cold? Ridiculous!" She smiled over at him, rummaging around through her drawers. "Ah! Here it is!"

She stood back up, pulling out a fleecy…_pink_ sweater.

"I'm sorry about the color, but it's the warmest sweater in the house." She watched as Spock pulled it on. He stood there quietly for a moment, and then nodded.

"I find it agreeable."

She grinned. "Great. Now, shall we go back downstairs?" She led the way down the narrow stairwell. When they emerged at the bottom they found Aurelan sitting in a chair pulled up to the couch, smoothing Jim's hair off his forehead soothingly. The boys were quietly watching TV with Sam.

"He's asleep," Aurelan whispered when she saw them. "I think his fever's coming back.

"Oh, Jimmy," Winona sighed. "When you get sick, you get sick hard."

"That is also the case when he is aboard the _Enterprise_," Spock said quietly.

"How often is that?" Winona asked worriedly. "He told me that he doesn't get sick in space."

"You were misinformed, I'm afraid. The captain seems to attract illness and unfortunate reactions to Dr. McCoy's injections." Spock folded his arms behind him, taking up a position behind the couch.

"Oh. Jimmy," Winona scolded. "You need to take better care of yourself. Who will take care of you when I'm not there?"

"Dr. McCoy does a fair job, I assure you," Spock said, remembering many of the incidents with a brief flicker of amusement.

Suddenly, Jim sat up.

"Run, David!" he screamed, throwing the bear at Spock. "The Klingons are coming!" Jim glanced around wildly. "Spock. Spock!"

"Here, Captain," Spock responded confusedly, holding the bear.

"Thank God, man," the captain gasped. "Take David and run. If you beam up now you might be able to avoid them."

"Who, Captain…?"

"The _Klingons!_ Were you not listening during briefing?! We don't have time for this!" And then his shoulders slumped and he fell back, dead to the world.

The only sound was the soft voices from the TV.

Then Sam cracked up. "Oh my God! 'The Klingons are coming! Take the bear and run!' Jesus, Jimmy, you have the best dreams ever!" Matt and Jacob follow suit soon after, and it wasn't long until Winona and Aurelan were laughing as well.

Spock's eyes glittered briefly as he absentmindedly rubbed the bear's ear. Unconsciously, he hugged it to his chest. Winona turned and saw Spock holding David and decided it was the cutest thing she'd ever seen. She quietly motioned for Aurelan to hand her the camera from the side table. Aurelan did so, and Winona quietly turned it on.

Then she held it up and took a picture of Spock.

The small click made Spock look up. When he noticed the camera, his eyebrow went up.

"I fail to see the purpose of this," he informed Winona, pulling the bear closer. "What would you do with such an image?"

"Give it to Jim, of course," Winona said with a smile. Spock's ears turned green at the tips.

"I…must request that you do not do that."

The chuckling eased off comfortably, and soon everyone was involved in their own tasks; Winona and Aurelan knitted while Spock read and Sam, Jacob, and Matt watched TV. Soon, Winona rose to make dinner.

"Should we wake Uncle Jim?" Jacob asked as Sam took his hand and led him into the kitchen.

"No," Sam said. "He'll wake up when he's hungry."

"Oh, so he's like Peter?"

"Yeah, I guess. Except Uncle Jim doesn't cry when he's hungry," Sam said with a wink. "Well, not _all_ the time."

"Stop picking on your brother when he's not here to defend himself," Aurelan admonished. "And speaking of Peter, he probably _is_ getting hungry." She disappeared upstairs to retrieve Peter from his crib.

Spock was pretty sure that dinner was going to be awkward. The first dinner he'd had here had had Jim there to ease him into the complexities of dinner conversation. The Vulcan was on his own, now.

However, it seemed that his apprehension was unfounded, as things proceeded comfortably for almost the entire time. In fact, Spock was almost relaxed. And then Matthew opened his mouth.

"So, when are you and Uncle Jim getting married, Uncle Spock?"

Spock's hand froze halfway between his mouth and his plate. Everyone waited with bated breath to see if there was going to be a problem, worried that Matthew might have offended him.

Spock carefully lowered his fork to the table. He swallowed slightly, and the tips of his ears had begun to turn a slight shade of green.

"The captain and I aren't getting…married," Spock said carefully. Jacob cocked his head to one side.

"Why not? You like each other, don't you?"

"Yeah," Matt agreed. "Don't you like him? He likes _you_ a lot."

Spock took a deep breath, wondering why this was having such a profound effect on him. He and the captain _weren't_ getting married. It was a fact.

And besides, the captain _liked_ him? Did that mean that on Earth one was supposed to marry a friend? It couldn't possibly. Obviously, these children did not understand.

"Just because the captain and I enjoy each other's company, does not require that we get married," Spock informed them.

"No, no, we mean, you _like_ him, don't you?" Matthew and Jacob looked back at him earnestly, obviously expecting an answer.

Perhaps, Spock, considered, _he_ was the one not understanding something.

"I fail to understand what you are talking about," Spock replied, slightly uncomfortable.

"You _like_ him like him."

The new emphasis did not help.

"That's enough, boys," Aurelan asserted. "I'm sorry," she said to Spock. "That was very insensitive of them."

Spock just nodded, wishing that Jim was there to explain things.

"What was insensitive of who?"

Everyone turned to see a bedraggled Jim standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He had the afghan draped over his shoulders and was sleepily rubbing at his eyes. Sometime between the couch and the door, Jim had thrown off his shirt.

"Jimmy, how are you feeling?" Winona asked.

The captain absently waved a hand. "Fine, Mom. Now, what's going on? Are you guys making fun of Spock?"

The coloring of the Vulcan's ears said everything that needed to be.

"Well, stop it," Jim snapped. "Only I get to make fun of him. He's _my_ first officer."

"They were not…'making fun' of me, Captain. We were simply conversing," Spock intoned. "I assure you, no harm was done."

"Well, fine," Jim said, and collapsed into the chair next to Spock. "Has anyone seen David?" Jim had been intending to stare at him for a while and see if the bear had any ideas about what to get Spock for Christmas.

"I have him," the Vulcan told him, handing him the bear which Jim just noticed had been sitting on Spock's lap.

"Do you like him?" Jim asked, curious despite knowing that Spock would tell him it was 'illogical for a Vulcan to form sentimental attachments to a material possession.'

"I find him…agreeable."

Jim grinned. David was a charmer, too, it seemed.

"Do you? That's great." Jim liked it when David made friends. And if that friend was Spock, so much the better.

"Yes. He reminds me of I-Chaya." Spock stiffened slightly then, as if it wasn't something he'd meant to say.

"Who's I-Chaya?" Jim asked, wondering how far he could push the 'Vulcans do not talk about themselves' rule.

"A pet I had as a child," Spock said, with an air of 'let's top talking about this, now.'

"A pet what?" Jim pressed. He didn't know what kinds of animals lived on Vulcan.

"I-Chaya was a sehlat," Spock said in clipped tones.

"A…sehlat? What's that?"

Spock sighed. "A sehlat is the equivalent of a…Vulcan bear. He had six-inch fangs."

"But you said that he was a pet, so obviously he was domesticated. Oh! He was like a big, living teddy bear!" The idea pleased Jim very much.

"I suppose so," Spock said in defeat. "He was much the same color as this bear." He gestured to David. "He passed when I was young."

"Oh. I'm sorry." But David had done it again. Now Jim had the perfect idea for a present. He just hoped it didn't make him seem _too_ girly. "Thanks, David," he whispered.

"Pardon?" asked Spock.

"Nothing," Jim replied. "Now, I'm hungry."

* * *

A big thank you to all of my reviewers! Here are some replies to anons.

LostSchizophrenic - You have really great ideas. Unfortunately, this entire fic is already written and I'm too lazy to go back and change things. But man, you have _fantastic_ ideas. I wish I had your brain.

kitchan - Ha ha, yes. I like making Jim childish. And you're lucky you've never had to watch someone puke. It's not pleasant.

misty - Thanks so much!

RachelMarta - Thanks. I love family stories, too. And I loved writing Jim's Klingon fish story, so I'm glad you liked reading it!

----------------

Poor Spock got thrown up on. If it had been me, I would have thrown up as well. But I'm a weeny girl, so that makes a difference. XD Here's the pink sweater!

Oh, what's Jim going to get Spock for Christmas? Three guesses and the first two don't count!

Live long and prosper,

Tube


	5. Chapter 4: The Wisdom of Snow

"So on this night of Christmas Eve  
As once again the spirits weave  
Its snowswept dreams and colored lights  
With bits of magic into each life

And as the snow comes gently down  
Its soul intent to reach the ground  
To cover scars the world still feels  
Perhaps to give them time to heal"

~"The Wisdom Of Snow" narration by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra

* * *

However hard and suddenly Jim got sick, he always seemed to bounce back quickly. The next day he was running around outside again with Jacob, Matt, and Peter.

"Are you sure this is wise?" Spock asked Winona asked they watched them romp around in the snow through the kitchen window.

"Oh, he'll be fine. Jim recovers quickly. Actually, he gets better just about as suddenly as he gets sick."

"A reasonable observation," Spock concurred. He wondered why his chest felt so odd as he watched Jim run around happily. It felt…kind of light, but heavy at the same time.

Perhaps he was coming down with something.

"Maybe the world just can't bear to see him unhappy for longer than a short while. I know I can't," Winona mused from her perch at the table.

_Neither can I_, Spock almost said, but stopped himself before he did. "How odd…" he muttered instead. "That is an illogical conclusion."

Winona just smiled.

"Mrs. Kirk, I am afraid that I must ask you to clarify some of the remarks made last night." Spock didn't know why he was asking Jim's mother, not the man himself, but if the comments were related to the marriage union of the captain and the first officer, Spock was pretty sure that it would be awkward.

Winona nodded. "All right, fire away."

Spock blinked. "Excuse me?"

She shook her head. "It means go ahead and ask."

"Oh. I see. Humans have such interesting phrases." Spock moved away from the window to sit at the table across from Winona. He absently pulled at the hem of the pink sweater he was still wearing. He stayed quite for a moment.

"Well?" Winona asked gently. "Would you like some tea before we begin?"

"Yes, please, if it is not too much trouble," Spock answered. He sat in silence as she made and poured the tea, brining two steaming mugs back with her.

"Now, what's on your mind?"

"I simply did not understand the meaning of, "_like_ him like him," as it was used last night." Spock picked up the tea mug and raised it to his mouth, enjoying the cinnamon-vanilla smell. It smelled like the captain.

It was oddly comforting.

"All right. When a human child says they "_like_ like" someone, it means they have strong affection for them." Winona took a breath. "He was asking if you were in love with Jim."

Spock carefully set his mug down on the table.

"I…see." Suddenly, his mug was very interesting. Everything from its color to the slight chip on the bottom was _fascinating_.

"Spock, I have something to ask you. As my guest you are free to refuse to answer."

Spock nodded in understanding, still not looking up from the mug in front of him.

"I want to know; _do_ you love Jim?" Winona watched as Spock's shoulders stiffened.

And then he stood up and left the kitchen.

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

A few hours later, Jim returned inside, toting Matt and Jacob. Peter had gone in earlier. The kids went right upstairs for warming baths, while Jim went to go find his mom.

"Mom, have you seen Spock?" he asked when he saw her.

"He went upstairs, dear. He might be meditating, though God bless him if he can do it in that racket," she said as they listened to the boys run around.

"Can I borrow your car?"

She looked up from the paper she'd returned to reading. "Hmm?"

"I asked if I could borrow your car. I need it to go…get something in town." He grinned pleadingly at her.

"Oh, all right," she laughed. "Keys are on the counter."

"Thanks, Mom," he said, and kissed her cheek. "You're the best."

The store was open late due to the proximity of Christmas, so Jim didn't have to worry about time. Depending on how long his search took, he would probably miss dinner. But that was okay, as long as he found the perfect present.

As he pushed the door open, he was met with a rush of Christmas carols and happy voices. The bright lights spanning down the rows of toys lit them with a happy glow, and Jim felt heart lift even more as he saw them.

"Hello, sir," a cheery teenage girl greeted him. "Can I help you find anything?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact," Jim answered. She smiled. Usually people said, 'No, I'm just looking,' and her life was boring again.

"What are you looking for?"

"Teddy bears," Jim replied happily. "But not just _any_ bear, a special one."

"Well, we have lots of bears here, sir, so if you'd just follow me…" Jim nodded and followed her down the winding rows of dolls and toy cars and action figures until they stopped in front of the wide Wall of Bears. Jim grinned.

"This is perfect, thank you," he said, attention already focused on scanning the bears.

"So, is the bear for anyone special?" Jim glanced over at her to find her grinning. It took a moment, but he recognized her.

"Rebecca! I haven't seen you since you were twelve! How are you?" Jim patted her head like he'd done the last time he'd seen her, a few days before he'd left for the Academy.

"I've been great, Jim. I was wondering when you'd notice." She batted his hand away. It was good to see him again. This was a small town, so everyone pretty much knew everyone. His absence had been like a hole in the town.

"Well, hey. You were just a gawky kid when I left. You can't expect me to remember you straight away—not with how much you've changed. You actually grew taller. Shrimp."

She whacked him.

"So, anyway, as I was saying. The bear for anyone special?" Rebecca was wearing that 'tell me more' expression that Jim usually saw whenever people asked him about the _Narada_ incident. He was actually kind of relieved that he'd only seen it twice this break; once while he was telling his Klingon fish story and now, buying a teddy bear.

He could get used to that.

"Yeah, actually. Someone very special." Jim gazed off into space, thinking about Spock.

"I _knew_ it!" Rebecca crowed. Jim turned to look at her with surprise. Quite a few others had as well. "So, are you going to propose to her?"

Jim blinked owlishly. "Propose to _who?_" he asked, quite confused.

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Like you don't know who I'm talking about. _Jenna_, of course!"

"Jenna?" Jim laughed, before he could think about it. "We're not together, Beck."

Before the girl could reply, there was a happy shout from behind Jim.

"Hey! Jimmy!"

He turned, surprised, and saw Jenna jogging toward him. "Hey, Jenna. It's nice to see you again."

"Yeah. Feeling better, I suppose?" she asked quickly.

"One hundred percent," he answered.

"So, what are you, Mr. Manly-Man, doing here in an aisle of teddy bears? Finally replacing that ratty old David?" Jenna inquired, smiling slightly at the tease.

Jim stiffened. "David can never be replaced," he snapped icily. Before Jenna could blunder a reply, Becca cut in.

"He said he was buying a teddy bear for someone _special_." It was, all in all, the _worst_ possible thing she could say. She figured, not unreasonably, that since Jim said they weren't together, that the feeling was mutual.

She was wrong.

"Oh," Jenna said, blushing slightly, "for who?"

"He was just about to tell me before you _interrupted,_" Becca ribbed. Jenna laughed, and soon their attention was focused solely on Jim.

"Well," he said embarrassedly, "I don't see how it's any of your business."

"Oh come _on_," Becca whined. "_Please_? Please, Jimmy?"

"You're seventeen, now," he told her curtly, "don't whine like a baby." And so she began to pout. "Jesus Christ, will you stop? Fine, I'll tell you." He glanced around like he expected Spock to pop out of nowhere. It wasn't likely, really, but the Vulcan had surprised him before.

"It's for my first officer, Spock," Jim said with a slight blush.

"Awww…" Becca crooned, at the same time Jenna cried out.

"_What! _A _boy?!_" she shrieked. Jim looked over at her, startled. She had narrowed her eyes and looked close to murderous rage.

"Uh, yeah," he answered, unsure of what else to say. He was completely out of his depth, here. What did she want him to do?

"Jim," she said with forced calm, "I was under the impression that…well…that you and _I_ had, you know, a _thing_."

He stared at her.

"What?" he asked stupidly about three minutes later. "Why would you think that? I never _liked_ you." Sometimes it took a while for his brain to catch up with his mouth. And until it did, he always said stupid things that dug him into a deeper hole.

This was one of those times.

All of a sudden, she was crying, and Becca was looking at him like he was a jerk. Which he was, really. Honestly, her expression said, you don't just _say_ things like that to people. You let them down gently. But Jim was rather blunt.

"What I mean is…" Jim started, awkwardly trying to console the girl whose heart he just smashed into a thousand pieces. "I…I'm sorry?" It was a long shot, but Jim really didn't know what to do. So he continued talking, knowing it could have mixed results. "It's not you, really. It's me. I'm…" Well, he wasn't sure if he was _gay_, but he definitely wasn't completely _straight_, either, if he wanted to date Spock.

"You're what?" Jenna asked desperately. And what could he say? 'I'm sorry that I'm Spock-sexual and you never had a chance?' 'I was never interested in you and I'm sorry you thought I was?'

But both of those were horrible.

Jim sighed. Tact had never been his forte, and it didn't seem like he was suddenly going to be good at it now, so he just laid a comforting hand on her back.

"I'm…"—_Vulcan-sexual, Spock-sexual, crazy—_"bisexual," he finished lamely. She looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. Becca was looking at him with surprise.

"I never knew that," she said, distractedly rubbing Jenna's back. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I just figured it out now," Jim answered. Jenna suddenly looked furious.

"I know! _He_ did this, didn't he? The Vulcan! They're telepaths, right? He screwed with your brain! He _made_ you be like this!" She stood up fully and looked Jim straight in the eye. "Well don't worry, love. I'll make him change you back." She took a deep breath. "_I'll give him hell until he does._"

And she stormed away before Jim could say anything.

"That's not what happened, is it?" Becca asked from beside him. He turned to look at her dazedly, trying to blink away some of the confusion.

"No. No, it's not." Jim pulled out his phone to call his mother. He had to let her know that if Jenna came over to the house, she shouldn't be let in. It was a matter of life and death.

He typed in the number and pressed the green button.

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

Miles away, the Kirk house phone rang.

"I got it!" Jacob called loudly, disturbing Spock. The young boy had been sitting right next to the Vulcan's sensitive ear when he decided it was a good idea to shout. Spock still looked slightly pained as Jacob slid off the couch to run to the phone.

"Who is it, honey?" Aurelan called when her son had reached the phone. Jacob didn't answer, just picked up the receiver.

"Commander Jacob here, Captain," he responded smartly. "Should we ready the transporter?"

Everyone chuckled. Spock raised an eyebrow and rose from the couch.

"May I speak to the Captain, Commander?" he asked politely.

"Of course, Commander," the boy responded just as politely, handing the receiver to Spock. The boy then gave Spock a smart salute and scurried back to the couch. Spock watched him go bemusedly before lifting the receiver to his ear.

"Captain? May I inquire as to your location?" Truth be told, Spock had become quite worried. Winona had refused to tell him when Spock asked, responding with a simple, 'He's out.'

"Oh, hey Spock," came the captain's reply. "How are you? Feeling better?"

"Feeling, Captain?" the Vulcan asked, a light tease in his voice that Kirk could tell only _he_ heard. Or, maybe he'd just imagined it.

"You know what I mean, Spock. Don't be stubborn." Jim was surprised by how easy it was to talk with Spock. It was almost as easy as talking to his mother.

…But Jim didn't want to go there.

"Captain, where are you?" the Vulcan asked again.

"In town," Jim replied enigmatically. "Oh, that reminds me of why I called."

"Do you require assistance?" Spock prodded. "I would be willing to—"

"No, no, it's fine, Spock," the captain assured. "I just called to tell you that if you see a crazy blonde woman who's about 25, _don't listen to anything she says._ She's wrong, and I'm sorry she's going to bother you. It's really not what it's going to sound like."

"Captain?" Spock asked, thoroughly confused. "I don't understand."

"You will," Jim advised sagely. "You will."

"Captain—"

"Spock, can I talk to my mom?" Jim asked suddenly. "I mean," _I want to keep talking to you_, "it's kind of important." Jim hoped that didn't make him seem like a jerk. He'd really had enough of that today.

"Of course, Jim," Spock replied. He didn't _sound_ offended, but Jim knew that didn't mean much of anything. Spock could be planning his death right now.

Very calmly, of course.

"Thanks, Spock. I appreciate it."

"Why would you thank me? It is her phone, after all, Captain. And, if indeed you called to talk to her, I have been wasting your time."

Jim cringed. "No, Spock, really you weren't—"

"Here is your mother, Jim," the Vulcan cut in smoothly, and the captain could hear the sound of the phone being handed off. He sighed. Apparently, offending people was all he could do today.

"Jim, sweetheart, is everything okay? You missed dinner," his mother said right away.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine, Mom," Jim replied. "Listen, actually, I ran into some trouble here in town."

"Oh, Jimmy, you didn't get into another fight, did you?" Winona asked worriedly. Spock glanced over at her from the couch, unreasonably worried as well.

"No, Mom, I didn't get into a fight," Jim sighed long-sufferingly. "Well, not a _fist_fight." He heard Winona make a frustrated noise.

"What did you do now, Jim?"

"Hey!" the captain protested, quick to defend himself. "What makes you so sure _I_ did anything? How was I supposed to know she liked me? As a matter of fact, I was pretty sure she and I were on the same page about all of this!"

Winona blinked.

"I'm sorry, honey," she soothed. "Now, go back. How were you supposed to know _who_ liked you?"

"Jenna!" Jim answered right away, still quite upset. "We met up in the store and she found out that I liked Spock. Then she started to cry, and then she got angry, and _now_ she's out to get him!"

"Jim, hold on. How did she find out you liked Spock?" Winona asked patiently, albeit quietly.

Unfortunately, Vulcan hearing was more acute than she thought.

Spock turned to face the phone quickly, wondering why he was suddenly trying to pick up Jim's end of the conversation. They could, quite logically, just be referring to the platonic use of the word 'liked,' but Winona's change of tone said otherwise.

"I told her!" Jim wailed quite pathetically.

"Now, calm down, honey. I can tell there's more to this story."

"Yeah. She's convinced that Spock mind-raped me in order to make me like him. She's wrong! And now she's gunning for Spock and I can't stop her. Keep her away from him at all costs, okay? And for God's sake, don't let him listen to what she has to say!" Jim was pleading in a very undignified way, in the middle of a toy store, but he didn't care. All that mattered was that Spock never find out that Jim liked him.

What he didn't know was that _that_ plan was already shot to hell.

"Okay, dear, I'll do my best," Winona reassured.

"Thanks, Mom," Jim said, relief coloring his voice. "I just don't want him exposed to that much human crazy. He's supposed to be _relaxing_ and all." His attention was suddenly caught by Becca waving her arms and gesturing toward the Wall of Bears in a 'get on with it, why don't you' way. "I gotta go, Mom. I'll be home soon."

"Drive carefully," she cautioned. "The road is getting slippery."

"I will," Jim replied, and hung up.

"Okay, let's see," Jim mused as he stared at the Wall. "What bear would be the best?" There were yellow bears, red bears, white bears, blue bears, purple bears, _rainbow _bears, but none of them were perfect.

He spent a good half an hour, just studying the bears, moving up and down the Wall. That red one was cute, and so was that white one. That blue one was _adorable_. But none of them were _perfect_.

And then he saw it.

It was shoved behind the others, desperately hanging onto the shelf. But it was perfect. Jim walked over and removed the bear from the shelf, smoothing its fur down delightedly.

"You know who you remind me of?" he asked the bear, stroking its head. "There's a certain Vulcan I know, who I think will love you a lot." The bear seemed to understand, and Jim smiled at it.

"Are you sure that's the one?" Becca asked. "It's green, Jim." She was right. The bear was light green and was wearing a navy sweater, a navy hat with a pom-pom, and navy mittens.

It was the cutest thing he had ever seen.

"Yeah," he replied. "I'm sure." He walked with Becca to the counter where she rung up the bear.

"Now, be careful out there, Jimmy," she warned. "It's snowing pretty hard, and the road's dangerous." He waved distractedly at her, and she caught his wrist. "Promise me that you'll make it home in one piece to give him that bear."

"I promise, Beck," he assured with a smile. He tucked the bear into the bag after wrapping it in his coat—Vulcan bears got cold quickly, you see—and headed out to the truck. He unlocked the door and slid the bear in first, pulling out the ice scraper to get the snow off the windshield.

"Jim!" Becca called from the door. "Call me when you get home, okay?"

He waved back to show he'd heard. "Becca," Jim shouted, "when's your shift end? If it's soon I could give you a lift home!"

She smiled. "It ends in about five minutes. Why don't you and your bear come back in while I gather my stuff?"

"Sure," he grinned. Becca had always been like a little sister to him. She was less annoying now, which was a major plus. He picked up the bag again and slipped back into the welcome warmth of the store.

"So," Becca said from behind the counter where she'd stored her coat, "what are you going to name him?"

"I can't name him, silly," Jim admonished gently. "Spock has to. Then their friendship will last longer."

"But, Jimmy, you didn't name David," Becca pointed out. Jim sniffed haughtily.

"That's completely different," Jim informed her. "David is charming. He makes fiends like no one's business." Becca just shook her head.

"All right, I'm ready to go, Jim," she said, emerging from behind the counter with her bag. "I still live in the same place after all these years."

Jim nodded and led the way out to the truck. He opened the door for her and then climbed into the driver's side, sliding the key into the ignition. The car started after a few tries, and they were off, driving carefully through the heavy snow.

"So, what's new with, you, Beck?" Jim asked conversationally as he drove.

"Oh, not much," she answered. "I have a boyfriend."

Jim had to focus not to slam on the brakes.

"What!" he exclaimed, turning to her in astonishment. "Since when?"

"He and I have been going out for…a year and a half, now, actually." She blushed and studied the interior of the car for lack of anything better to do. Jim nodded.

"You'll have to introduce me sometime." And the conversation continued on for a while in the same, easy way.

"There's the drive," Becca said, and Jim pulled into it. "Thanks for the ride, Jimmy. Give me a call next time you're in town?"

He nodded and waited until she was safely into the house before he pulled back out onto the road.

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

Winona stared nervously out the window, checking the road for any sight of Jim. He should have been here by now, she told herself worriedly. He should have been here by now. What if something happened? Oh God, what if—what if he'd crashed?

She jumped when Sam's hand landed softly on her shoulder.

"He'll be fine, Mom. Don't worry. This is Jimmy we're talking about, right?" He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

"I know, you're right," she sighed, placing her hand on his. "Thanks." In the other room, Winona heard the sound of Aurelan turning on the evening news in the living room. Spock was drinking tea at the kitchen table and waging war with the expert level crossword from the day's paper.

"_This just in,"_ the lady newscaster spouted from the TV. _"There has been an accident on a local road. A blue Ford pickup was found flipped over off the side of Holston Road."_

Winona was in the living room faster than was humanly possible, staring at the TV. Her face had drained of all color. _'Jim was driving my blue pickup,_' she thought desperately. _'Oh, God, please tell me he's all right._'

Spock had clenched his hand on the armrest of his chair so tightly that it had splintered in his hand. He stood up so quickly that the chair toppled over, but no one cared.

"_The driver, a young man, was found dead on arrival. The police and paramedics have not identified the body and have not released any further details."_

"No, oh no, oh no, no, no…" Winona muttered as she sank into one of the armchairs. Spock was standing ramrod straight, staring disbelievingly at the TV, where the news anchor had already moved on to another story.

"I don't believe it," Sam kept repeating. "No way, not Jimmy." He shook his head. Aurelan had squeezed her eyes shut and had her hand over her mouth.

Everyone was shocked. It just wasn't possible. Jim, dead? No, it couldn't be. The news was wrong, was a lie. It couldn't be Jim. It couldn't be. Just couldn't be.

And then the door opened.

Jim entered, whistling happily to himself. He stopped when he saw the expressions on everyone's faces.

"Well aren't you a happy crowd?" he asked. "What's the matter? Did someone die?"

Winona let out a long wail and buried her face in her hands. Sam had wrapped his arms around Aurelan, and was now crying very quietly and stoically. She was rather a bit louder. Spock had just turned from the TV to stare at him, instead.

Jim was beginning to think that everyone in his house had gone crazy.

"Come on, guys. What's going on?" But no one was listening to him. Then, he noticed that Spock's hand was bleeding. "Spock, your hand."

The Vulcan kept staring at him.

"Spock, your hand's bleeding, dammit," the captain informed him. Spock didn't move and everyone else just continued to cry. This was getting _freaky._

"Guys?" Jim tried again. He stepped forward and gently took Spock's wrist. "You have major wood splinters in here," Jim informed him.

Suddenly, Spock grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him.

Spock kissed him.

_Spock_ kissed _him_.

Spock _kissed_ him.

…It was nice.

And then the spell was broken. Winona flung herself out of her chair and wrapped her arms around Jim, sobbing into his shoulder. It took about fifteen minutes, but eventually he got the whole story between her choked sobs.

"And…and…" Winona spluttered helplessly. "We thought you were dead!" The tears came back in another wave, and Jim rubbed her back soothingly. Sam and Aurelan had also gotten up to wrap their arms around Jim.

Spock just kept Jim's shirtsleeve fisted tightly in his hand.

It was really too much for the captain to take in. He numbly shuffled over to the couch (bringing the still crying Winona along as well) and sat down. It took a few more minutes, but Winona quieted down and regained her composure, drying her eyes on the hem of her shirt.

"I'm sorry, Jim," she said. "I overreacted."

"It's okay, Mom," he told her. And it was. He understood, really. He just hoped it never happened again.

Now, what was really bugging him was Spock.

Spock had _kissed_ him.

He glanced over his shoulder at the Vulcan. Spock was now looking at his bloody hand, as if contemplating when it had happened. Jim wondered if he had imagined the kiss.

Maybe.

He got up from the couch and walked over to his first officer. "Come on, we have tweezers in the bathroom," he said, and herded Spock into the bathroom. There, he proceeded to wash Spock's hand and remove the splinters.

There were twenty-five.

"How did you manage this?" Jim asked lightly, still attempting to figure out if he'd imagined the kiss.

"I had a disagreement with your kitchen chair. I must apologize to your mother," Spock informed him curtly.

Jim decided that yes, he _had_ imagined it.

Which sucked.

The captain sighed and bandaged Spock's hand, although the flow of green blood had already almost stopped. He was careful not to touch too much skin (he'd already gotten a lecture from Uhura about that), and when he was satisfied with his handiwork, he bustled Spock back out into the kitchen.

"How does your hand feel?" he asked as he righted the fallen chair. "Does it hurt?"

"It is manageable, Captain," was all Spock said in reply. Jim set him into another chair, vowing silently that he would be more professional around Spock. If he was imagining being kissed, he had let himself go too far.

What was next? Sex?

He shook his head and asked who wanted tea. In the end, he decided that everyone did and set the pot on to boil. Sam, Aurelan, and Winona carefully took places at the table as well as Jim set out five mugs. He also took out his cinnamon-vanilla tea that was his favorite due to its soothing effects.

Everyone needed it now.

He set the mugs in front of everyone and took his own seat, after calling Becca to tell her he'd made it home. They drank quietly until Jim's eyelids were drooping.

"I'm going to bed," he announced, and stood from the table. Spock stood as well, setting his cup in the sink next to Jim's.

"'Night Mom, 'night Sam, 'night Aurelan," he called softly as he disappeared into the stairwell.

"Goodnight, Jim, Spock," they echoed back softly. They were silent until the noises upstairs had ceased. Then Winona sighed and set her head down on her arms.

"That boy will be the death of me, I swear," she sighed. Sam and Aurelan nodded.

"Here's to that," Sam said, raising his mug and downing the last of his tea. "He very nearly gave me a heart attack."

Their conversation was paused by the sound of shuffling bare feet as Jim reappeared from upstairs, sleepily rubbing his eyes. He trudged to the couch and picked up the toyshop bag from where he'd left it.

"'Night, guys," he said as he disappeared again. They watched him go and soon rose to follow him one by one.

The kitchen light turned off.

* * *

Thank you to all of you wonderful reviwers!

**Anon replies**

**kitchan - **Thanks so much! I'm glad I'm winning at mixing humor and seriousness. But that was one of my favorite parts, 'Take the bear and run!' XD And the picture! My sincerest hope is that someone will draw me Spock in a pink sweater hugging David. I really, really want it. :)

**WhileTheMusicLasts - **Thank you! I love the kids, too.

**LostSchizophrenic - **You're the nice one! And I was actually planning a sequel/companion piece that has them decorating the tree. So I will of course have to write _something_ along the lines of what you offered. There were just too many perfect ideas to miss out!

Ah, Jim, you are the captain of bad decisions. Use your brain, man! Your brain! Please review!

Live long and prosper,

Tube


	6. Chapter 5: The Music Box

**PLEASE READ THIS! **Everyone, I'm so sorry because this is a horrible place to leave you, but I'm going on vacation for a week and will have no access to a computer. Please forgive me!

* * *

"But now upon the Christmas scene  
Candle wax of melted dreams  
Ornament os shattered glass  
Now belonging to the past

But all these things are now long gone  
And not to be wished upon again"

~"The Music Box" by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra

* * *

Two days until Christmas, counting today, was what Jim was informed when he wandered down for breakfast the next morning. He nodded sleepily, beginning to munch on the toast Winona placed in front of him.

"Will you play outside with us again, Uncle Jim? Uncle Spock already said that he would!" It took a minute for Jim sleep-fogged brain to comprehend the children's request, but when he had, he glanced up at Spock.

"Did he? Then how can I refuse?" he asked teasingly, turning to face Spock. It was only then that he fully noticed the Vulcan's attire.

"Spock," he began carefully, "are you wearing a _pink_ sweater?"

The Vulcan glanced at him over the top of his mug of tea. "Yes, Captain," he answered.

"Where did you…?" Jim was confused. He had never seen anything pink in Spock's possession before. It was all a little disturbing. But it actually looked nice on the Vulcan.

"It belongs to your mother," Spock replied. "She allowed me to borrow it after you vomited."

Jim grimaced. "Yeah, sorry about that, again." He was still embarrassed about it, and it wasn't helped by the fact that no one would tell him if he'd said anything while feverish. Sam had just laughed and muttered something about Klingons, shaking his head.

"It is of no consequence, Captain. You were unwell." Spock was very good at forgiving people, Jim decided, as long as there was a logical reason for the transgression.

But, there were more important matters to touch upon.

"It's _pink_, Spock," Jim said again. "_Pink._" Just once more, for emphasis. Spock raised an eyebrow, possibly wondering if the captain really _had_ recovered from his illness.

"Yes, Jim. I am aware of what color it is. Are you trying to make a point?" The Vulcan watched bemusedly as the captain just began to laugh quietly.

"It's nothing, Spock. I just wanted to let you know that you look dashing."

"Dashing, Captain?" Spock inquired. "I am afraid that I am unfamiliar with the use of the word, in this context."

"It means handsome," Aurelan called form the stove, where she was making oatmeal for the boys. Sam chuckled from where he was feeding Peter.

"I see," Spock said, examining his cup. Then he looked up to meet Jim's eyes. "You are 'making fun' of me." He stood, intending to place his cup in the sink.

"No, I'm not," Jim said quietly, staring down at his plate.

"Jim?" Spock asked, turning to face him. Jim cleared his throat and flushed slightly, reminding himself that, oh yeah, wasn't he supposed to be being _professional_ around Spock? Calling him 'dashing' was hardly professional.

So Jim got his act together.

For the rest of the day, he referred to Spock as 'Mr. Spock,' and treated him like he would on the ship. There were no accidental touches (which, Jim noticed, there had been quite a few of since they'd arrived. He missed them) and there were no jokes made at the Vulcan's expense (though there were actually quite a few of _those_ on the ship).

Spock was just a normal houseguest, and Jim would treat him as such.

After all, he had just imagined the kiss, and was therefore treading in very deep, very dangerous water. What was it McCoy always used to say? Disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence?

Of course, the doctor had been speaking of _space_ at the time, but it was how Jim's thoughts felt right now.

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

Spock was very confused.

Had he done something to upset the captain? Lately, Jim had taken to referring to him as 'Mr. Spock,' or sometimes even _'Commander_' instead of the fond 'Spock' the Vulcan had unconsciously become accustomed to.

And it had happened after he had kissed Jim.

That was it, wasn't it? That was the problem. Spock had to fight the urge to set his head down in his hands. It had been a mistake, and Spock had known it from the start. What had he been _thinking?_

Oh right. He hadn't been.

Not thinking was a rare occurrence for Spock. In fact, it had only happened twice in his life. Once, when he had attempted to strangle Jim, and secondly... When he had kissed Jim.

The captain seemed to be particularly able at robbing him of logic. It was an extremely distressing thought; due to how illogical and rash the captain was, Spock needed his logic most when the captain was around.

A most interesting problem.

Perhaps he been wrong? The captain obviously did not return his…sentiments. It was best that they go back to being professional, as they were on the ship. He would no longer attempt to…converse with the Captain.

And he would no longer call him Jim.

* * *

To my reviewers, thank you. I'll reply to the anons later, since I REALLY have to go. Goodbye for now!

Yeah, I know. Short chapter is short. And sad. But hopefully the next one will look up, ne? Please review!

Live long and prosper,

Tube


	7. Chapter 6: The Snow Came Down

"No conversation  
As the snow fell from the sky  
His consolation  
That the world is well disguised

He stared into the night no expectations  
He watched the world go by without a sound  
He saw the city lights arrive and fade away  
While all that night  
All that night  
The snow came down"

~"The Snow Came Down" by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra

* * *

Everyone was quiet and somber on Christmas Eve, even the children. They could all tell that something was wrong. Jacob spent most of his time looking nervously between Spock and Jim, wondering if they would explode if he said the wrong thing.

"Would you like some tea, Mr. Spock?" Jim asked politely from the couch.

"No, thank you, Captain," Spock replied carefully, glancing up from the SuDoKu he'd found in the newspaper. And the quiet settled down again, suffocating everyone.

Winona didn't know what had happened. No one did. All of a sudden, Jim and Spock had become very formal to each other. But nonetheless, Winona could still see the brightly wrapped box under the tree with 'To Spock, From Jim' written in her younger son's chicken-scratch on the label.

She sighed.

Spock had left earlier that day to pick something up from town. Jim had inquired politely, but let it drop after Spock quietly refused to comment.

Politely.

It wasn't a word that was often used in a sentence with Jim. Maybe in a sentence before, like in 'I politely tried to start a conversation with your son. Jim punched me.' That happened a lot, actually.

But she saw the carefully wrapped and hidden package concealed behind the tree with 'To Captain Kirk' written precisely on the label.

The boys gathered eagerly around Jim as he sat down on the couch with an old, ratty book. Its binding was cracking and Jim didn't know how much longer it would survive, but tradition was tradition.

"You don't mind, do you, Mom?" he asked, referring to the honor of storyteller. She shook her head, glad to see the reserved politeness replaced with joy, at least for a while.

"You go ahead, honey," she smiled, settling down next to Spock on the couch. A quick glance revealed a small, almost imperceptible softening of the Vulcan's face.

And maybe, just maybe, the hint of a smile.

The boys had already hung their stockings (and Peter's), and pressed in close to Jim so they could be sure to hear the story. Aurelan snapped a picture and nodded for Jim to begin.

""'_Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house…""_

And all throughout the story, Spock's smile never left.

Maybe things would look up, after all.

* * *

Another ridiculously short chapter, but at least it's a post, right? I actually got time on my gram's computer, so I was able to post! Yay! Anyway, thank you to all of my reviewers! You make me so happy!

**ANONS:**

**LostSchizophrenic - **I know. The crazy Jenna crap will hit the fan soon, though. I promise. I'm glad you liked the suspense thing! Here is another short chapter, unfortunately. The next one will be longer, I promise!

**kitchan - **You're a shameless flatterer. I'm glad you liked the tone. I was kinda worried about the curve ball at the end, but it worked out well. ;) Yeah, you were very close! But Jim wouldn't give David up for anything. Jim and Spock need to sit down and talk, I agree. But they're men, of course, so they won't. XD

The next chapter is Christmas Day, so you'll see what Spock got him. And I know, right? Sad chapter is sad!

** - **I'm so glad you liked it! Thank you so much!

**TheOneTheyCallEcho - **Thank you so much! That makes me so happy! My biggest fear when I wrote this was characterization, so I'm glad that you think it's working. I, too, wish it was December. *sigh*

Please review!


	8. Chapter 7: Thankful

"Even with our differences  
There is a place we're all connected  
Each of us can find each others love

So for tonight we pray for  
What we know can be  
And on this day we hope for  
What we still can't see

It's up to us to be the change  
And even though this world needs so much more  
There's so much to be thankful for"

~"Thankful" by Josh Groban

* * *

Christmas dawned bright and early, metaphorically speaking. Actually, the children (even Peter) were up at two, long before the sun even _thought_ about rising. The rest of the house followed with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

"Why can't you sleep in until four?" Sam groaned unhappily, carrying Peter on his hip down the stairs. Matt and Jake raced down in front of him, squealing excitedly.

Jim followed after them with an excited smile.

"Oh, cheer up Sam," he playfully ribbed. "We used to get Mom up at one, remember?"

"No," Sam mumbled back grouchily. "We never could have been that mean to her."

"Well, _I_ remember perfectly," Winona said from behind them, rolling her eyes and pulling on a bathrobe. Spock and Aurelan came after her, until they were all standing in the main hall.

"Smile, boys," Jim said, producing a camera from somewhere. The boys flashed quick grins, holding still for a split second before resuming their pestering.

"Can we go now? Can we please? Please!" Jacob's eyes were big and pleading and Matthew had folded his hands together in front of himself beseechingly. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Fine. But stockings first!" Sam called after them. They laughed and ran into the living room, shrieking.

"Jim chuckled, too, and playfully bumped his shoulder against Spock's pink sweater-clad one. The corners of Spock's mouth turned up slightly.

And then they both remembered that they were supposed to be Professional and moved awkwardly away from each other.

The adults followed the children into the living room, watching with small smiles as they excitedly emptied their stockings. Sam set Peter down and guided him over to his stocking, where the child began doing the same.

"Oh wow, look at this!"

"Yay! Chocolate!"

"Is this what I think it is?"

"So cool!"

Matt and Jake traded exclamations while Aurelan video taped the entire debacle. Peter chewed thoughtfully on one of the toys he'd pulled out of his stocking.

"Who wants coffee?" Winona asked from the doorway of the kitchen. "I know I do." Everyone, including Spock, agreed. As Winona left, Jim concentrated on keeping his knee a measured four inches away from Spock's. Spock was looking every where but at Jim.

"Boys, come in and help me carry these mugs!" Winona called from the kitchen. Everyone looked up. "And by boys I mean Jim and Spock!" she added after a minute. Jim sighed and rose form his seat on the couch, Spock doing the same, except quietly.

As soon as they had left, Sam and Aurelan exchanged a look and Sam quickly got up and adhered something to the top of the doorframe.

"What's that?" Matt asked, but Sam shushed him.

Spock, Jim, and Winona appeared seconds later. Jim was carrying two cups of coffee, as was Winona. They had only made Spock carry his own.

Jim and Spock had been walking in front of Winona and therefore passed under the top of the living room doorframe first.

"_Wait!_" Winona shouted loudly, and both Spock and Jim turned to look at her. Jim was glaring slightly, because after she'd shouted, he'd jumped and spilled coffee over his hand.

"What, Mom?" he asked irritably.

"Look up," she informed him smartly, and Jim did.

He almost dropped his cups.

Spock also looked up, but the sight that greeted him surprised him less than it had the captain. This was because Spock did not understand the meaning of the innocent-looking plant that had been so cleverly taped above his head.

He began to move toward the couch.

"Uh uh," Winona said definitively, shaking her head. "Please stay where you are, Spock." Confusedly, the Vulcan did so.

Jim's face had gone from angry to disbelieving to upset. It had drained of all color, and he was now looking at his mother miserably.

"Mom—"

"I do not understand," Spock cut in. He was examining the mistletoe with a curious eye, also including the expression on Jim's face in his observations. He nodded once and turned precisely to Jim. "Explain."

"I—well—you see..." Jim spluttered. Winona decided she'd take pity on him. Or, not.

"It's mistletoe," she said brightly.

"…I see," Spock said, raising his eyes critically toward the offending plant again and then back to Jim's sick expression. "It is a declaration of war."

Silence fell over the room. Even the kids looked up from where they were fiddling with the things they'd found in their stockings.

"What?!" Jim burst out, turning to look at Spock. "War? …Really?" The captain sounded very pained. Spock just got even more confused.

"I apologize, Captain," he amended quickly. "I am obviously in error."

"Mistletoe is a plant used to form treaties in Earth history," Winona explained gently. Jim just closed his eyes despairingly, waiting for the next, crucial bit of information. Waiting for Spock's refusal.

"Treaties," Spock repeated, looking over at Jim's pained face. "You do not wish to treaty with me, Captain?"

Jim told himself he was just imagining the hurt in Spock's voice.

"I—no. That's not it at all, Spock—" Jim floundered helplessly.

"There is another aspect of the mistletoe, Spock," Winona said gently. The Vulcan turned to look at her expectantly. "Sam, Aurelan, if you wouldn't mind." She gestured to the mugs of coffee in Jim and Spock's hands, and the couple nodded, rising to take them.

They were careful not to step under the mistletoe, but chastely pressed their lips together, just in case.

Spock watched with a raised eyebrow. "It involves kissing?"

"Yes," Winona confirmed. "Two people caught under the mistletoe must stay there until they kiss. Or, they'll have bad luck until next Christmas."

Jim had buried his face in his hands and was doing his utmost to hide from Spock.

"I see," the Vulcan said again. "Then…you do not wish to kiss me, Captain?"

Jim knew he wasn't imagining the tone this time.

"I…_Dammit!"_ the captain yelled, and grabbed Spock by the front of his pink sweater.

If Spock was surprised, he hid it well.

Jim's kiss was gentle, a stark contrast from what Spock had expected. It was just a brief brush, with a little pressure behind it. He started to pull away quickly, and Spock read indecision and nervousness, _Oh Gods_ and_ What ifs_, through the portal of Jim's skin.

Spock decisively placed his hand on the back of Jim's neck, and held him where he was.

Eventually, Jim's hands settled happily on Spock's waist, and Spock ended up wrapping his arms around Jim's neck. They had paused for breath once and once only, and it was only for a short time.

"Eeeeeeewwww," Jake and Matt whined from where they sat. Jim pulled away from Spock looking mildly dazed. Spock just looked composed. As always.

"Oh, shut it," Jim barked embarrassedly. "Open your presents."

That did it, and soon Matt and Jacob were fighting over who got to go first. Jim watched with a lopsided smile, all the while wondering if it would be okay to hold Spock's hand.

Spock reached out and twined their fingers together.

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

In the end, Peter got to open his present first, since he was the only one not arguing.

After everything was said and done, the kids sat happily playing with the new toys they had received. Jim awkwardly cleared his throat and rose from the couch, disentangling his and Spock's fingers.

Spock stood as well, moving to retrieve a present that was still hiding under the tree. Jim came back with a similar present.

He handed his to Spock.

Spock handed his to Jim.

They looked at each other for a long time, each silently commanding the other to open the damn box, already.

"You first," Jim said.

"No, Jim, I insist," Spock replied, nodding to the present in Jim's hands.

The silent battle of wills continued.

"Oh for _God's sake_," Sam burst out, "just open the present already, Jimmy!"

"I concur," the Vulcan supplied.

"Fine, fine. Jesus," Jim said as he sat down on the couch and began delicately opening the package. When opened, it revealed a dark gold long coat with lighter gold embroidery. Jim pulled it out, fascinated. There was a line of text on the back that Jim couldn't read.

"It is Vulcan," Spock informed him. "It says, 'Captain.' Jim turned to him and smiled widely. Then, he put it on and kissed Spock.

"Now you," he urged, and the Vulcan did as commanded. He removed the blue wrapping carefully, not tearing it, until the box sat unadorned in his lap. He efficiently slit the tape and opened the box.

The green bear inside was quickly removed and hugged to his chest.

"Do you like him?" Jim asked with a grin.

"I find him agreeable," Spock responded, contentedly stroking the bear's head.

"He's a Vulcan," Jim smiled, indicating the green tint of the fur. "I didn't have time to sew a Starfleet emblem on the sweater, though."

"He is perfect."

"What will you name him?" Jim asked as Spock leaned back against him.

"I will name him…Pola." Spock closed his eyes and hugged the bear closer.

"Pola? That's cute," Jim hummed.

But Spock was already asleep.

Jim was chirping excitedly when Spock woke a few hours later. It took a moment for Spock to ascertain that the chirps were actually words, and that Jim was speaking to someone.

"It was fantastic, really," the captain was saying. "You should meet him, Becca, he's great."

Spock could dimly hear the sound of a female voice responding on the other end of the phone line.

"I'll bet he is, Jimmy. But a Vulcan! You must be the most charming man alive to get a _Vulcan_ to fall in love with you."

And Spock realized they were talking about him.

He sighed quietly and reached out two fingers, pressing them gently against the same fingers on Jim's hand. Startled, the captain broke off the conversation to look down at him.

"You're awake," he said with a smile. "I'm glad." Jim curled their fingers together and politely told the girl on the other end that he had to go now, but his mother said that it was mandatory that she and her father come have Christmas dinner with them.

"Okay," the girl said, and bid him farewell. Jim set the receiver back in its cradle and turned to look down at Spock again.

"You were _asleep_," Jim said conspiratorially. He wiggled his eyebrows at the Vulcan.

"…I was not," the Vulcan protested. "I was simply resting, Captain. …Jim."

The captain sat back, looking at Spock with amazement. "Bullshit."

Spock just blinked innocently at him and inquired what time it was.

"Only eight," Jim answered back suspiciously. "You were asleep for about five and a half hours."

"I was _not_," the Vulcan insisted firmly. Jim just rolled his eyes and ignored him.

"Why were you so tired? Meditation not working well?" Jim noticed then that Spock's jaw was tense, and decided to drop it. But there was one thing that was bothering him, that really couldn't wait.

"Spock? Why aren't you spending shore leave with Uhura?"

Spock's shoulders stiffened only fractionally, but Jim had been looking for it. Nonetheless, the captain pressed on.

"I mean, did you two have a fight or something?"

"Captain, I do not believe that it is any of your business," Spock informed in curtly, moving to sit up.

"But it is," Jim insisted. "It is very much my business. "I mean, here you are, in my house, kissing me and getting kissed _by_ me, so I damn well _think_ that it _is_ my business—"

"I told you to leave it alone!" Spock snapped, standing from the couch abruptly. Jim fell quiet and just looked up at Spock, who was glaring at him.

"Okay. Sorry," Jim mumbled quietly, looking away.

Spock sighed, but his shoulders did not relax.

"Nyota and I are no longer in a relationship. Does that satisfy you, Captain?" Spock asked coldly.

"I—yeah," Jim said with a shrug. He was still avoiding Spock's eyes.

"Then with your permission, Captain, I wish to retire to my room." Spock stood tensely until Jim nodded.

"Yeah. All right."

Spock turned and walked stiffly up the stairs, not looking back. Sam watched from the doorway of the kitchen.

"What's his problem, Jimmy?" he asked when the Vulcan was out of sight.

"Hell if I know," Jim answered sadly. He pretended that he didn't hear the door slam upstairs.

Jim took comfort in the fact that at least Spock had brought Pola with him.

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

All day, Jim could smell the cinnamon of Spock's meditation candles no matter where he was in the house. Even when the food was cooking and the delicious aromas filled up the house, all Jim could smell were the candles.

_He's angry_, the scent told him. _You've upset him_.

Jim was in a pretty foul mood the whole day.

Becca and her father, Mr. Martin, arrived at three. Dinner was set for four, so everyone just stood around and chatted. Becca could spot Jim's bad mood from a mile away, so she drew him aside into another room.

"What's up, Jim?" she asked, not bothering to dither around the subject. "Is it your Vulcan?"

Jim leaned against the kitchen wall, trying to resist the urge to bang his head against it. In his distracted state, he failed to notice the soft sound of Spock's footfalls as the Vulcan came downstairs.

"He's _not_ my Vulcan," Jim informed her shortly.

Spock paused by the doorway.

"Oh?" Rebecca asked, noticing Spock. "And why is that, Jimmy?"

"You'd have to ask _him!_" Jim exploded. "All of a sudden he just _snapped_ at me this morning. And then he left! He disappeared upstairs and I haven't seen him since!"

Becca rubbed his back comfortingly, eying Spock mistrustfully. The Vulcan thinned his lips slightly.

Jim was caught between screaming and crying. He had never been one for waterworks, though, so he settled for an angry yell.

And then he punched the wall.

"_Dammit!_ Why the hell do I have to be so good at making him angry? We just _made up_, dammit!" He punched the wall again for good measure.

"Jim."

The captain froze. Slowly, the tension dropped out of his shoulders and all of the rage seemed to leave in a great gust. He sagged against the wall, and wouldn't meet Spock's eyes.

"Yeah, Spock? What is it?"

Spock shifted where he stood, uncomfortable. He was unused to circumstances such as these.

"I…"

The human female in the room gave him a look that said, quite clearly, 'get _on_ with it, why don't you?'

"I apologize, Jim. My outburst this morning was shameful and in error." Spock watched as Jim closed his eyes. When they opened again, they were focused on Spock's face.

"No, I'm the one who should be sorry. I kept asking, even though you _did_ tell me to drop it. And _then_ I went and blew it all out of proportion."

"Irrelevant, Jim. I assure you that the fault lies solely with myself—"

"Let's not argue, okay?" Jim interrupted. Spock nodded, relieved. He didn't want to fight with the captain, either.

Then Spock watched in surprise as Jim extended the first to fingers of his right hand to him.

Spock blinked.

Jim blushed and almost withdrew the gesture. "It's just…you did it this morning so, I just thought—"

Spock placed his fingers on top of Jim's, noting with interest the stronger-than-usual buzz that he felt between the joined fingers. Interesting.

"You are free to extend this gesture to me at any time," Spock told the captain, and Kirk visibly relaxed.

"Oh, okay. Good." He stood quietly for a moment. "…What does it mean?"

"This exchange is a Vulcan kiss," Spock explained, and Jim grinned.

They stood there, fingers joined, for quite some time. Until Rebecca cleared her throat.

"Oh, yeah!" Jim said as he blushed and pulled his hand away from Spock's. "Rebecca, this is Spock. Spock, this is my friend Rebecca."

Spock nodded politely, and Rebecca smiled back.

"I can see you liked the bear Jim got for you. What did you name him?"

Spock glanced down at the green bear tucked under his arm. "His name is Pola," the Vulcan informed her.

"Pola? That's so cute!" And suddenly, she seemed to approve whole-heartedly of Spock.

And neither of them noticed the slight tightening of Spock's jaw whenever she touched Jim.

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

Jim and Spock helped Winona set the table for dinner, blushing and avoiding each other's eyes whenever their hands touched. Spock internally admonished himself on his lack of control, but found that he was unable to correct the issue. This puzzled and disturbed him, but it did not show on his face.

Soon everyone settled down to eat, Spock tucking into the vegetable casserole that had been prepared specially for him. Conversation carried on happily about all kinds of things, creating a nice little hubbub that calmed everyone's spirits.

Dinner finished uneventfully, desert following in much the same manner. Everyone was settled happily in the living room when there was a knock at the door.

"Are we expecting anyone?" Jim asked, looking up from where he had distractedly begun to pet Spock's head. The Vulcan was reading.

"I don't think so," Winona answered, but moved to get the door. Soon, voices were drifting in from the entryway. It took a moment, but Jim recognized one of them.

"Shit."

With little apology or grace, he shoved Spock off of him and pulled the Vulcan to his feet.

"Captain, what—"

"Hide, Spock! Go upstairs and hide." Jim tried unsuccessfully to push Spock over to the stairwell. After a moment, Rebecca recognized the voice as well and also began urging Spock to go upstairs.

"Captain," Spock said, stilling Jim by placing his hands on the captain's shoulders, "I do not wish to go upstairs."

"Spock, this is really important. Really. It's going to get very unpleasant, very quickly down here if you don't _go upstairs_." Jim began trying to move Spock again. Spock's hands tightened almost painfully on Jim's shoulders.

"I do not wish to go upstairs," Spock said again, tensely.

"Spock, stop being stubborn and just go—"

"Jim!"

The captain froze, and then buried his face in Spock's chest, attempting to hide. A blonde girl stepped into the living room with a huge smile on her face.

"It's too late…" the captain moaned. Spock gently placed his arms around Jim's shoulders, pulling him closer.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce me?" the girl said with a steely edge in her voice. The smile remained plastered on her face. Jim cleared his throat and stood up straight. He pulled away from Spock gently and sent his mother a look that said, 'I _told_ you not to let her in.'

Winona just shrugged helplessly from where she stood next to Jenna's father.

"Uh, right. Jenna, this is Spock. My…boyfriend. And Spock, this is—"

"Jenna. I'm Jim's _real_ girlfriend." The smile had kicked its brightness up a notch.

Spock stepped forward and wrapped his arms possessively around Jim.

Jenna's eyes narrowed, and the smile turned cold. "Jim, tell him. Tell him how you told me you loved me last night in town."

Jim stared at her incredulously as Spock turned to him, looking confused.

"I didn't say that," Jim told him. "I told her I was getting the bear for someone _special_." Spock accepted this with a nod and decided it was only proper to ignore anything else the crazed woman had to say. He began to lead Jim over to the couch again.

"Someone _special_," she mocked back at him. "A Vulcan? Jim, he must have screwed you in the head if you think he's even _capable_ of loving you. I mean, seriously. Hitting yourself in the head with a _rock_ would be more fun than being in a relationship with _him_."

Jim pulled away from Spock to set her straight. The Vulcan had narrowed his eyes slightly and his hand gained a slight tremble.

"Jenna, look. I know it's hard for you to get your _tiny_ mind around it, but I like _Spock_. Not you."

"Jim, honey," Jenna said, "I am so sorry." She stepped forward and covered Jim's hands with hers. "We'll make it right, I promise."

"Jenna—" Jim began, trying to get his hands free.

"Kindly remove your hands."

It was stated quietly, but forcefully. Spock was glaring at her, but otherwise his face was neutral. Jim was the only one who noticed Spock's hands curled into fists at his sides.

"I won't give you another chance to mess with his head. Never again." She held onto Jim's hands tighter. Spock's shoulders stiffened and Jim saw his knuckles turn white.

Jenna's father was looking uncomfortable.

"Jenna, let me go," Jim said quietly. He had only seen Spock this angry after Jim had provoked him on the bridge.

Spock had _strangled_ him, then.

"Spock," Jim said gently.

"Don't talk to him, Jim," Jenna said pityingly. "He made you be like this. We were so in love," she sighed, wrapping her arms around Jim's neck, even as he struggled to remove, but not hurt, her. "Until he _mind-raped_ you."

"_Get your hands off of him!_" Spock roared, grabbing a hold of her arm and flinging her away from Jim. Jim placed a soothing hand on Spock's back but Spock roughly pushed him away, advancing on Jenna angrily.

Aurelan pulled the kids out of the room.

"You_ lie_," Spock hissed at Jenna, who was now cowering against the wall. "I did _no_ such thing to him."

He wrapped a hand around her throat.

"You will not touch him again."

"_Spock!_" Jim shouted, trying to pull the Vulcan away from her. "Stop! _Stop,_ dammit!"

Spock used his free hand to bat the captain away.

"Spock!"

Sam joined Jim in the effort to get Spock away, but it was no more successful. They had to begin thinking of alternate solutions, because Jim didn't want to hurt either of them, but Jenna was systematically getting the life squeezed out of her.

Then something occurred to Jim.

A word. One, single word. He didn't know what it meant, but he knew how he knew it. He'd picked it out of the mind-meld with the elder Spock. It had meant a lot to the old man, so maybe it would mean something to _his_ Spock. It was worth a try.

Jenna was turning purple.

Jim watched Spock's hand slowly tighten until he was sure her head would pop off. He knew he had to try, but he didn't even know if he could _pronounce it_, for God's sake!

"_T'hy'la!_" he shouted, and the effect was immediate. Spock let go of her neck and turned to face him.

"T'hy'la?" he asked Jim. His eyes were soft. "Yes, my t'hy'la." He wrapped his arms around Jim and buried his face in the crook of Jim's neck.

"Let's go upstairs," Jim said softly, leading the Vulcan over to the stairwell.

And they did.

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

"Okay, Spock," Jim said when the Vulcan had let him go and calmed down, "what was that?"

Spock looked up at him from where he sat on Jim's bed. Then he looked away again.

"I cannot tell you, Jim."

Jim sighed and sat down next to his first officer, trying not to be hurt by the way Spock scooted away from him a little. "Why can't you tell me? Don't you know?"

"I am well aware of what caused my outburst, Captain," Spock informed him carefully. "However, I am not able to share it with you at this time."

And, supposedly, that was the end of that.

…No.

"Why not, Spock? I mean, you just nearly strangled a girl to death in my living room. That kinda concerns me." The captain took a deep breath. "You know, only a little."

"Captain, it is none of your business."

"I remember the _last_ time we had this conversation. Don't you?" Jim sighed heavily and lay down on the comforter. "Spock, I just…I worry about you. You don't have to tell me what's wrong, it's just…it's not _dangerous_, is it?"

Spock looked at Jim for one very long moment.

"Not for you, no," the Vulcan replied curtly.

Jim angled his head so he could see Spock clearly. "What about for you? Is it dangerous for _you?_"

They could dimly hear the sound of the front door closing downstairs, and the sound of a car starting up. Spock didn't speak until the roar of the engine had long since faded into the distance.

"I…it is something we do not speak of. Especially not to outworlders."

Jim lay patiently, quietly. He knew when to push Spock and when to just let him talk. It was odd, because he'd never known that about anyone before.

Now was a time to listen. Spock would tell him if he wanted to.

""It is a matter of Vulcan…biology," Spock eventually continued.

"Biology?" Jim prompted. "Like, sex?"

Spock turned and blinked at him.

"Yes, Captain, like…sex."

Jim nodded for him to continue.

"That is all you need to know, Captain," Spock told him, folding his arms.

"You never told me if it was dangerous for you," Jim pointed out. "At least tell me _that_."

Spock didn't say anything.

"So it _is_," Jim said sadly. And then he sat up. "Well, then we'll take you to a doctor. Get you looked at. Everything will fine, I promise."

The captain stood up and walked toward the door. He had his hand on the doorknob when he realized Spock hadn't followed him.

The setting sun streaming through the partially covered window was the only light.

"Spock?" The captain looked at him hopefully, but sadness tinged his features.

'_It is likely that he does not know the origin of that sadness,'_ Spock thought to himself as he watched Jim's smile slip.

"Aren't—aren't you coming?"

"No, Captain," Spock said quietly, glancing away from the look in Jim's eyes. "I am not."

Jim's hand fell from the doorknob.

"Spock, you said it was dangerous. Come on," he urged, "let's go. Please."

"Captain, I will _not_. There is nothing a doctor could do for me, anyway." Spock was glaring at him now, an event that was becoming more popular in the recent days.

"Then fix it yourself! You know what's wrong, don't you? Or, if you won't, tell _me_ what's wrong and let _me_ fix it!" The captain was angry, now. "Dammit, Spock. If you won't do anything, I will. Now tell me what's wrong."

"Captain—" Spock began, but stopped when he saw the determination in Jim's eyes. "Jim. There is nothing you can do. I would need to be delivered to the Vulcan colony, and that is impossible."

"Impossible?" Jim jumped on that, right away. "Why?"

"Because, Captain, by the time we got there I would either be insane…or dead."

"Spock, what…?" Jim said, confused, moving to step nearer to the Vulcan.

"Captain, I must insist that you stay where you are. Should you come any closer, I will not be able to control myself."

Jim stepped forward.

"_Captain_," Spock warned. "I am not 'joking.' Please refrain from coming any closer."

The captain took another step.

"_T'hy'la!_" Spock snapped. "I _mean_ it." The Vulcan's eyes were dark.

But it wasn't with anger.

"Spock, tell me what's wrong. I want to help you."

"Jim, you cannot help me! I…I will hurt you."

"You won't. Just_ tell_ me what it is, dammit!"

The Vulcan gritted his teeth. "Pon farr," he spat out. "The Vulcan mating cycle."

Jim stopped short in his gradual advance toward Spock.

"Mating cycle? What?"

"Yes, Jim. _Mating_ _cycle_. Every seven years Vulcans go through it, and are forced to take a mate or suffer insanity and slow death."

"A mate?" the captain asked. Spock nodded tersely, not looking at him.

"Now, I must request that you _leave_, before I lose control and hurt you."

His only response was the rustle of cloth.

"What—" he started, turning to face Jim.

…Jim wasn't wearing a shirt anymore.

Spock flattened himself against the wall as far away from Jim as he could get.

"Jim, t'hy'la, that is unwise. Stop."

Jim started on the button of his jeans.

Spock closed his eyes and let out a small groan. Then Jim pressed himself up against the Vulcan.

Spock growled and slammed Jim against the wall, quickly ridding them both of their remaining clothing.

Jim locked the door.

* * *

I kidnapped my Gram's computer again because all of you were so nice and understanding, and I couldn't just _not_ update! It would make me horrible! Thank you for wishing me a nice vacation! I should be home tomorrow!

Thank you to all of you reviewers!

* * *

**ANONS:**

**kitchan - **You are! You totally are a shameless flatterer! But it's nice. Thanks. ^^ I've just had this picture in my head of Spock doing newspaper crosswords and stuff, so I figured SuDoKu wasn't far off. As you know may have seen, Spock's gift was totally random. Until I got to this chapter, I didn't even know what Spock was getting Jim! So no, there were no hints dropped. I'm not THAT subtle. (I fail at subtle BTW. )

The only cure for an awkward silence is awesomeness. :D

**jerhanner - **Thanks for the concern, but writing basically is my relaxation. I'm fine. My vacation has been just what the doctor ordered!

**TheOneTheyCallEcho - **Thanks! My vacation's been great. I can't wait for Christmas! XD

**LostSchizophrenic - **Peace and long life. You remember even when I forget. :) Let's hear it for craziness, huh! It's the most fun to write. :DDD

**Nate - **You are so nice to me! I'm sorry about the typos, but I usually write so fast that I don't catch them. And even my grammar cop sister didn't catch them. I'm so happy that you like my story! I appreciate the kindness, and I hope you liked this chapter! The rest of the chapters should be longer from here on out. I think. XD

* * *

So that's chapter 7, folks! Chapter 8 should be up soon. Please review!

(Since I forgot last time) Live twice as long and be twice as prosperous,

Tube


	9. Chapter 8: The Christmas Song

**Please read my last author's note!**

* * *

"And so, I'm offering this simple phrase

To kids from one to ninety two

And though it's been said, many times, many ways

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas to you"

~"The Christmas Song" by Josh Groban

* * *

"_Jim!_ Jimmy, unlock this door!"

Jim groaned and buried his face in the pillow. _Too early_, his brain screamed at him. _Way too freaking early_.

"James Tiberius Kirk you will open this door _right now_ or we'll break it down!"

Jim rolled ungracefully out of bed. His mother only used his full name when she was angry beyond all belief, so it wasn't impossible that she _would_ break down the door. He pulled the blanket up over Spock and pulled on some pants.

He unlocked the door.

The effect was immediate. Winona opened the door forcefully, so angry that she was red in the face. That anger deflated somewhat when she caught sight of the yawning, sleep-muffled Jim in front of her.

"Morning, Mom," he mumbled tiredly. He hid a yawn behind his hand as Sam came into the room as well.

"Jim," Winona said patiently, "it's eight in the morning."

Jim blinked at her blankly.

"On _Saturday_," she insisted. Jim looked up, surprised.

"What? Mom, it's only Thursday. You know, Christmas Day?"

"Jim, honey, you've been up here _since_ Thursday. It's Saturday." Winona glanced at the bed and saw Spock for the first time. "Oh my. Are we interrupting something?"

Jim glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping Spock.

"Nah. I think we're done." Jim raised his arms above his head and stretched. "You know, I'm _starving_."

Sam shook his head, chuckling. "I'm not surprised, Jimmy. You just spent about a day and a half engaged in…_strenuous_ activities and forgot to eat." He patted Jim on the shoulder. "Nice, baby brother."

Jim smirked, and Winona ushered both of them out of the room.

"You are going to eat something _now_, Jim. And drink water. You might be dehydrated, too."

Jim waived off her fretting. "I'm fine, Mom. I'll just eat breakfast and everything will be fine."

Winona didn't look convinced, but followed Jim and Sam downstairs.

"So," she said as Jim got himself a bowl of cereal, "you want to tell me what that was all about?"

Jim almost choked on his cornflakes.

Sam patted Jim on the back and handed him a cup of orange juice. "She means the strangling, Jimmy," he assured.

"No," said Winona, "I meant _all_ of it." She fixed Jim with a penetrating stare as he slowly ate his cornflakes. Sam patted his back again, this time sympathetically.

"Sorry, Jimmy," he said, and left the room.

The tension was palpable.

"Okay, awkward," Jim said after a minute. "Where're Aurelan and the kids?"

"They went out," Winona answered simply. The stare didn't ease up.

Jim swallowed uncomfortably.

"And how's Jenna?" His tone implied that he didn't really care. Honestly, she'd deserved it. But still, she was his friend, and he didn't want her hurt _too_ badly.

"She's fine," came the clipped reply.

Jim sighed and set his spoon down in the bowl.

"Mom, I can't explain this to your satisfaction. It's Spock's private matter and not my business to tell." His tone left no room for argument. Winona raised an eyebrow.

Jim braced himself for the yelling.

"I'm proud of you, Jimmy," she said with a slight smile. Jim blinked.

"What?" he asked, confusion evident. He had been sure she'd pop a blood vessel.

Winona squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

"You're growing up, Jimmy. This is evidence enough that you've matured since I last saw you. I'm so proud."

And the captain grinned.

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

Spock woke, disoriented and worried.

"Jim?" he asked, looking around for the captain. "T'hy'la?" He felt the horror begin to set in. Jim wasn't here. He had gotten up and left, most likely disgusted and injured.

_Injured_.

Spock buried his face in his hands. He had wronged his captain. All evidence pointed to that conclusion, and Spock closed his eyes.

"I am sorry, Jim," he whispered. Slowly, he got up from the bed and dressed, stiffly and methodically. Then he began to pack his things.

He would not stay any longer.

After everything was folded neatly back into his bag, Spock reached for the sweater he had grown used to donning in the morning. He stopped his hand short when he remembered that it was Winona's.

He left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. As he descended the stairs, Spock noticed the low hum of voices from the kitchen. One of them was definitely Jim's and Spock allowed himself a moment to pause and listen to his t'hy'la talk.

"So, what are we going to do today, Mom?" Jim sounded happy to Spock's ears, but perhaps it was to fool Winona?

"Oh, I don't know, honey. I was just going to hang out. When Spock wakes up, you could ask for _his_ opinion."

The silence that answered her broke Spock's heart. However, even his Vulcan ears could not pick up the slight crunch of Jim eating his toast, nodding along happily to Winona's suggestion.

Jim heard the front door open.

Quickly, he swallowed his mouthful of toast and jam and rose to see who was there. Surely Aurelan and the kids couldn't be home yet? And Sam had no reason to open the door…

"Spock?" he asked, catching sight of the back of the Vulcan's head as Spock fled. "Where are you going? Spock?"

Spock stopped walking, standing on the doorstep with his hand still on the doorknob. Jim gazed, baffled, at his back.

"Where are you going, Spock? Leave doesn't end for another week."

Spock slowly stiffened and removed his hand from the doorknob.

"T'hy—Ji—_Captain_, I must leave. I apologize for the trauma I have caused you. I, of course, will be submitting my resignation promptly by the end of shore leave—"

"Wait, wait, wait," Jim said, holding up a hand and shaking his head. "Trauma? _Resignation?_ What are you talking about, Spock?"

"I am speaking of the assault over the past few days, Captain," Spock informed him succinctly. "It is an offense punishable by court-martial."

"Spock, all we did was have sex. I don't think that counts as _assault._ In fact, I kind of liked it. A lot. So, if it _is_ assault, it was the best assault ever. And we should do it again. Often."

"Captain—" Spock began exasperatedly, turning around.

Jim kissed him.

"You're not going anywhere," Jim said quietly, leaning his forehead against Spock's. "All right? You're going to stay here. What made you think you caused me trauma? If I remember correctly, _I_ seduced _you._"

Spock frowned at him. "You were not with me when I woke. I logically assumed that this was because you chose to leave and were disgusted by the events that—"

"Logically?" Jim laughed quietly and pressed a kiss to the corner of Spock's mouth. "Spock, I wasn't there because I had to eat. I'm only human."

The Vulcan flushed.

"…I am a fool," Spock said, turning his face away. When he glanced back at Jim, the captain wore a soft look that Spock had never seen before.

It made him…feel.

When Jim noticed him looking, the expression on his face hid away again, but Spock knew what it was. As the captain turned to go back into the kitchen, Spock pulled the front door shut and grabbed Jim's wrist. He tugged until the captain looked back at him.

"You love me," the Vulcan said softly. Jim raised a hand to Spock's cheek and ran his fingers lightly over the flesh before he smiled.

"Yes."

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

That day they hung out. Spock leaned against Jim on the couch and read until Aurelan and the kids came home and Matt and Jacob demanded more stories.

Jim shot Spock a 'help' look, but the Vulcan just raised an encouraging eyebrow. Jim's pleading glance was also lost on Sam, who just shrugged and gestured to the kids with an evil grin.

"All right, you want another story?" Jim asked, leaning back and settling Spock more comfortably against his side.

"Yes, please," Matt said politely.

"Yeah!" Jacob said, climbing up onto Jim's lap. Matt looked put-out until Jim patted the armrest of the couch, scooting Jacob over a little so the boy wasn't touching Spock's pink-clad shoulder

Jim had made him put the sweater back on.

"Okay, a story. How do you feel about _Romulans?_" Jim asked dramatically, setting the stage for yet another exaggerated (or completely fake) story.

"Nero?" Matt asked.

Jim comfortingly rubbed Spock's arm and said, "Nah. You guys already know all about that. No, what I have to tell you is _better_ than Nero."

Spock raised an eyebrow, and the boys leaned in close to hear.

Jim ended up spinning them a fantastic tale about fistfights, ancient, sacred duels, laser fights, life-threatening situations, and cranberries.

"Cranberries?" Sam asked incredulously when Jim said it.

"Yup," the captain nodded. "Cranberries. Romulans have a secret weakness for cranberries, don't'cha know."

Sam shook his head and turned back to the news.

"Oh, yes," Winona said, just as Jim ended his story in a flourish, "I forgot. I still have something to give you, Jimmy."

"Hmm?" Jim hummed, looking up as she left the room.

"Here," she said, returning with a bag of something.

Jim's eyes widened and he snatched them out of her hand with an excited whoop.

"Craisins! I _love_ you, Mom!" The captain hugged the bag to his chest and grinned like a fool. Then, he ripped it open in began to eat them.

Spock was watching him amusedly.

"Want some?" the captain asked, holding some out to him. "They're good."

"I must decline—"

"Come on, they're _good_. You've never had cranberries, right? Now you can try some!"

"Jim."

The captain stopped fussing and looked at him. His eyes were wide and pleading and Spock found he was actually having a difficult time refusing.

"C'mon. Please?" Jim whined. Sam shook his head from where he was sitting with Aurelan and muttered something about Starfleet captains and their dignity, or lack thereof.

"…Fine," Spock acquiesced. "I will try one."

Jim grinned and told Spock to 'open up.' Spock did so, and the captain popped a craisin into the Vulcan's mouth.

Spock chewed thoughtfully for a moment, and then swallowed.

"Well?" Jim asked, head cocked to the side in curiosity.

"I find it…agreeable."

Jim grinned. The rest of the time was spent happily munching on craisins, soft conversation filling up the room. At about eight, Winona brought out a box of chocolate truffles.

"Everyone's welcome to have some," she said with a smile. Jim shot forward and grabbed the raspberry one and the cranberry one before anyone could blink.

He happily bit into the raspberry one, making appreciative noises.

"You still have favorites, huh, Jimmy?" Sam remarked as he took the hazelnut truffle out of the box.

"Well, you do too," the captain shot back. "It's the system. I get the raspberry ones, and you get the hazelnut ones. That's how it's always worked."

"You grabbed the cranberry one, too, Jimmy," Sam said with a smile.

"Yeah, I know. This one's for _Spock_. Duh." Jim stuck his tongue out at his brother and offered the truffle to a confused Spock. "Here."

"…What is it, Captain?"

Jim's mouth fell open in shock.

"What is it? What _is_ it?" he asked incredulously. "You've never had a _truffle_?"

Spock honestly though the captain was over-reacting. Was there some deep significance in this small round ball?

"No, Jim. There was no such…food on Vulcan."

"Oh. Well, here, then. It's like cranberry flavored chocolate."

Spock froze, and then looked down at the object with close scrutiny.

"Chocolate?" The eyebrow went up. "…Fascinating."

"Here," the captain said again. "Open your mouth."

Spock did so.

Jim gently placed the truffle on Spock's tongue, and Spock closed his mouth slowly, obviously enjoying the taste.

His eyes slipped closed.

"Oh _get_ a _room_, already," Sam ribbed from the couch. Spock's eyes snapped open and a slight green flush rose onto his face.

"You're ears are green," Jim said with a grin, reaching up and rubbing the tip of Spock's ear.

Then something weird happened.

Spock kind of…_melted_ against Jim and buried his face in the captain's chest. Jim held his arms away from Spock, as if touching him would cause more weird things to happen.

The Vulcan wrapped his arms around Jim middle.

And began to _purr_.

"Uh…Spock?" Jim tried, awkwardly setting his hands on Spock's back. The Vulcan just purred louder and nuzzled Jim's chest.

"I—I think y—you _broke_ him," Sam got out around his laughing.

"That's so sweet," Winona said, sharing a gushing look with Aurelan.

"I _hope_ I didn't break him," Jim said concernedly. "I don't even know what happened!"

Minutes passed.

Then, suddenly, Spock stiffened. Very self-consciously he untangled himself from Jim and sat up, not meeting anyone's eyes.

Things were very quiet.

"So…uh…Spock?" Jim began after a minute.

"Yes, Jim?" Spock replied softly.

"Do…do you want another truffle?"

Spock weighed his options carefully. On one hand, eating another truffle would possibly diffuse the tension and awkwardness. On the other hand, however, ingesting more chocolate might lead to…_interesting_ results.

"I would not be adverse to that, Jim," the Vulcan answered.

At nine, Jim and Spock were snuggling on the couch. …_Snuggling_. The Vulcan was slightly flushed, and Jim was confused. But happy. Very, very happy.

"Spock," Jim said quietly, "are you okay?"

"I…I am _fine_, Jim," the Vulcan answered, face pressed into Jim's neck. "I am merely in...ine…inebriated."

"Oh." Jim sat quietly for a moment. "Wait, what?!" He looked down at Spock in surprise. "You're _what_?"

"In...tox...i...ca…ted," the Vulcan replied, slowly sounding out the word to get it right.

"You're smashed," Jim said simply.

"_No_, t'hy'la, I am not," Spock said, looking up at him for a moment. "I am quite in one piece." Then he went back to nuzzling Jim's neck.

"Um…" Jim said intelligently. "How? There weren't any rum truffles or anything…"

Spock just hummed happily and surreptitiously began trying to take Jim's shirt off.

"Whoa!" the captain exclaimed suddenly as Spock's hand slipped under the hem. Everyone turned to look at him, confused. "We're…we're going to go upstairs now." And he took Spock by the wrist and pulled him toward the stairs.

"Don't be too loud," Aurelan called after them. "The kids are asleep."

Jim flushed and grinned, pulling Spock up the stairs behind him and ignoring the chuckles from his family.

When the door was firmly shut behind them, Spock succeeded in taking off the captain's shirt.

* * *

XDDD Drunk Spock is so much fun!

**I have a feeling that I owe you some explainations about the Pon Farr in the last chapter, since I recieved a few confused reviews. A few people believed that since Spock is a very intelligent Vulcan, he would know when his next Pon Farr would come about. This isn't necessarily true. Here are some reasons to support my thinking:**

**1.** Vulcans never talk about Pon Farr. Therfore, I believe it to be a logical conclusion that beyond the necessary base facts, Spock wouldn't know that much about it, or at least about the signs and predicting it, since this would be his first Pon Farr.

**2.** Pon Farr is a versatile condition that can come anytime when you are between 20 and 35. At present, Spock is thirty. The estimate was based on Vulcans who lived their entire lives on _Vulcan_. However, Pon Farr can be affected in its arrival by certain factors. Thing such as space travel and being off-world can affect the onset of Pon Farr. (I read this in a ST novel BTW)

**3.** When all else fails, go for the canon. In the episode of TOS "Amok Time", Spock was not able to predict when his Pon farr would come. If he had been able to, he would have had the _Enterprise_ deliver him to Vulcan sooner. In fact, he was never expecting to even experience Pon Farr, hoping that his human blood would cancel out the effects. This is what my nu!Spock was hoping, too.

Okay? I hope that explains everything!

* * *

**ANONS:**

**Nate - **I agree about the nephews being present too long in the confrontation scene in a practical way, but I'm also trying to be realistic. Have you ever tried to shoo two little boys away from interesting things? If you haven't, I assure you it's _not_ easy. They would have been putting up one heck of a crazy fight to keep watching what was going on.

I've always kinda wanted to exhaust the character limit, too... XD

DO IT. Write a K/S fic! I will love you forever! I know how you feel about the Original stuff, too, though.

THANK YOU SO MUCH.

**kitchan -** Actually, I was kinda planning a little exerpt omake where Jacob hears Jim and Spock and goes to ask Sam waht they're doing, just to make a really awkward onversation. XD

Hey, to each their own. I love it when people find funny parts in my story that I missed. It makes me happy to know that I can appeal to other people's senses of humor and not just my own. :)

Even though I wrote her for plot developement and crap like that, I'm actually starting feel bad for her. I mean, what happened had to happen for the plot to move forward, but still...Look at it this way: Jenna was in love with Jim for as long as she can remember, believing he felt the same for her, only to suddenly find out that he is in love with a MAN and never liked her at all. Ouch.

Thank you, my dear. I always look forward to your reviews. ;)

**TheOneTheyCallEcho - **I know the type of girl you're talking about. It was kind of intentional, becaus I based Jenna off this girl that I hated at school. She even looks like her a little, at least in my head. I can't wait for Christmas!

**LostSchizophrenic - **I only made it last for a day and a half because otherwise, Jim might be in trouble. XD That's so cool! I want to get the IDIC symbol tatooed! That would _rock!_ I've also been entertaining a little fantasy about getting 'Dif-tor heh smusma' (Live long and prosper) tatooed on my palm. Of course, this is just wishful thinking. My Dad hated tatoos and would kill me if I ever got one.

Thanks so much!

** - **Thanks! And no, I don't think he ever tells Jim. But it was just a difference in opinion that led to an amicable breakup or something minor. Maybe they decided it just wasn't working?

**jerhanner - **Thanks!

* * *

Thank you to all of my lovely reviewers! I couldn't do it without your support!

**Before I go, I have a request to make of all of you talented writers! Since this fic is only rated T, and I can't write smut to save my life (but I love reading it! ), would anyone consider writing in the missing Pon Farr scene? You don't have too, but I would love to see what you come up with! Strongly encouraged!**

Thank you. Live long and prosper,

Tube


	10. Chapter 9: Carol of the Bells

"Hark! how the bells  
Sweet silver bells  
All seem to say,  
"Throw cares away."  
Christmas is here  
Bringing good cheer  
To young and old  
Meek and the bold

Ding, dong, ding, dong  
That is their song  
With joyful ring  
All caroling  
One seems to hear  
Words of good cheer  
From ev'rywhere  
Filling the air"

~"Carol of the Bells"

* * *

Jim made sure that the next morning he had aspirin and water for Spock. Whatever had made the Vulcan drunk last night might leave him with a hangover.

Jim almost laughed.

Spock began to stir, so Jim lowered the blinds to block the blinding glare of the sun. He also switched his voice to a whisper, so as not to disturb the Vulcan's sensitive hearing.

"Jim…" the Vulcan hissed, and the captain offered him the painkillers. Spock accepted them gratefully, swallowing them with a gulp of water.

"How do you feel?" the captain murmured softly.

"I will be able to function passably in a few minutes, Captain," the Vulcan assured him. "However…" The Vulcan hesitated, and then glanced at Jim. "I do not recall the events of last night."

"We slept together, after I got you drunk on God-knows-what," Jim said quietly. The Vulcan raised an eyebrow.

"Drunk? Fascinating." Then he closed his eyes, trying to remember something. "Yes. I remember. You offered me…chocolate."

"Yup," Jim said. "And then you got all…purry."

Spock flushed. "Captain, I assure you, _that_ was a different reaction altogether."

"Oh?" Jim asked, raising his own eyebrow. "A reaction to _what_, per se?"

"…I must request that you do not touch my ears again, Jim."

"Your ears make you purry?" Jim grinned widely, imagining the future fun he could have with Spock…on the bridge.

"Jim. I insist."

"Fine, fine," the captain said noncommittally, waving a hand. "So, what about this getting drunk thing?"

"Vulcans are impervious to the effects of alcohol, Jim. But…chocolate would appear to cause the same result."

Jim blinked once.

Twice.

A third time.

"You get drunk on chocolate?" It was hard to miss the pure joy and mischief in the captain's voice.

"Yes, Jim, it would appear so. Please do not misuse this." Spock had the slight hangover under control now, and had risen to stand by the door.

"I have a question, though, Spock," Jim said, before the Vulcan could leave the room. "You knew about the effects, right? Why did you eat the truffle, then?"

"That, Captain, is two questions," Spock answered, a familiar glint of humor in his eyes.

And Spock closed the door gently behind him.

* * *

I know, I know, short chapter is pathetic. I couldn't help it though; I separate the events by day. So, to make up for this pathetic chapter, I'll post another one brfore I go to sleep, how's that? :) I've always just had this idea that rubbing a Vulcan's ear (which Jim does distractedly in the last chpter) puts them into a warm, purry state. Does that make me weird?

Thank you to all my great reviewers!

* * *

**ANONS:**

**jerhanner - **That's gotta be it. Spock + endorphins = hilarity! XDD

**Nate - **It's okay. I forgive you. XD (Actually, you were right and I should have explained it at the end of that chapter...) BUT ANYWAY! TOS isn't that bad, actually. Sure it's a bit cheesy in places, but overall it's good. And besides, K/S is practically canon in TOS! You can see it!

What about Drunk!Teddy!Spock? That would explode the universe!

I would LOVE for you to write my missing scene! Don't worry about the small stuff. I don't even know what their voices would say while they were...*ahem*. XD

Yay! Write and get an account!

Thanks so much!

**Anon-i-mous - **Thanks! I hope you like the rest of the story!

**LostSchizophrenic - **Huh. I hadn't thought about Spock's being only half-Vulcan affecting the length of his Pon Farr. You could be on to something, there!

On the tattoo thing, I dunno. I might end up getting one in my life, or I may not. I just don't know. But hey, life is made for indecisiveness, isn't it? :)

YOU WRITE MY SMUT, TOO. I want many versions of it!

**kitchan - **Drunk Spock is my favorite thing. He gets all snuggly... :3 Yeah, Jim's family is pretty chill. It makes me happy.

Thank you so much! That makes me really happy. I've never been told that before. This story will have 14 chapter in all (including prologue and epilogue (I think)), so the end is actually in sight. Sadly. What's more is that the next ones are knida short, too. Oh well. It's because I got lazy.

Yeah, you did mention one of those PF factors, so good on you! Vulcans don't talk about sex. XD Have you read Lanaea's story 'Pon Farr and You'? I think that's what it's called, anyway. It's hilarious!

Spock definitely IS one of a kind. But he has his bondmate around. Jim! But Jim's hopelessly clueless sometimes...

Thank you so much! I know exactly what you're talking about. When the stories I read take too long to update, I have to go back and reread them to know what's going on. It's knid of annoying. But if the story's good, it's worth it.

A stopry doesn't need smut to be good, I agree. But that doesn't mean I don't want it. XD

**TheOneTheyCallEcho - **I know! Drunk!Spock rules the universe!

* * *

Please review!


	11. Chapter 10:We Wish You A Merry Christmas

"We wish you a merry Christmas

We wish you a merry Christmas

We wish you a merry Christmas

And a happy New Year

Good tidings we bring to you and you kin

Good tidings for Christmas and a happy New Year"

~"We Wish you a Merry Christmas"

* * *

They had a little less than a week before they had to go back to San Francisco, and Jim intended to use the time wisely. First, he went outside and played in the snow with the boys on Sunday. They built a snow-Spock and used food-colored water to turn him green. Peter got a kick out of it. It had a blue scarf, and a pink sweater (this time the sweater was Jim's. It had used to be red, but…well, never let Jim do laundry, Winona confided to Spock).

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

Monday, he sent an apology note to Jenna, but he wasn't sure if it was sincere.

_Dear Jenna,_ it read, _I'm sorry that you almost got strangled to death in my living room by my boyfriend. It was all just a misunderstanding, but it might be best if you don't come over when he's home. I assure you, he hasn't done anything to me that I didn't want done, so please don't worry about it I hope that we can talk and clear up any issues that we have._

_You're still my friend._

He signed it '_Jim_' because he didn't know what else to put.

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

Tuesday, he pinned Spock under the mistletoe on purpose. He was aware that the doorframe might not be that comfortable for Spock to be pressed against, so he only held him there until the Vulcan stopped fighting him for control.

Jim kissed him fiercely, loving the fact that he knew Spock was enjoying this as much as he was.

"T'hy'la," he whispered, kissing the Vulcan's neck. "What does it mean?"

"It is an old Vulcan word that can mean three things," Spock answered, wrapping his arms around the captain's waist. "Friend, brother, and…lover."

"T'hy'la," Jim said again, and pressed a gentle kiss to Spock's jaw. "I love you."

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

Wednesday, Jim, Spock, Aurelan, Winona, and Sam packed away the Christmas ornaments and took down the tree, with all three of the boys getting in the way.

"Green, blue and purple ornaments in this box. Red, orange, and yellow ones in this box," Winona instructed from the ladder she was standing on.

"…This ornament is rainbow," Spock said, looking doubtfully between it and the boxes.

"Put it in…" Jim closed his eyes and pointed randomly at a box. "That one."

Corks flew at midnight, and Spock got introduced to another human tradition: the New Year's kiss.

"Five, four, three, two one! Happy New Year!" The cheer went up from everyone in the living room. Even Peter had made it to midnight, marking him as a true Kirk. Sam hugged Aurelan, and Jim grabbed Spock by the front of the shirt.

"Okay, holiday lesson number two: Not only do you kiss under the mistletoe, but also on the stroke of midnight on New Year's," Jim informed.

"Understood," Spock said, and captured Jim's mouth.

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

Thursday, Winona and Spock made chocolate chip cookies. The smell attracted the kids (and Jim) who offered a lively conversation while Winona coached Spock through the baking process.

"Don't let Jim eat too much of the dough," Winona cautioned as she saw Jim sliding up behind Spock. "Or we won't have any left to make cookies with."

"Jim," Spock said, turning to face the sneaking captain. Jim wrapped his arms loosely around Spock's neck.

"Yes, t'hy'la?" the captain responded, watching happily as the tips of Spock's ears grew a pleased green.

"Do you desire to help us?"

Spock raised an eyebrow as Jim removed a fingerful of cookie dough from the bowl.

"No," the captain responded, smearing it on Spock's nose.

The Vulcan looked slightly alarmed.

"I'd rather help with cleanup," Jim continued, proceeding to lick the offending confectionary off of Spock.

"We'll hold you to that, Jim!" Winona called from the over as she removed a sheet of cookies.

Jim waved to show he understood and disappeared out the kitchen door, looking incredibly satisfied.

* * *

Okay, cop out chapter is here because I'm too lazy to write about the week, and because the master copy was getting too long, anyway (my sister is drawing a comic of this whole fic, so I don't want to overload her. ^^). Thanks for the reviews, and have a good night!


	12. Chapter 11: Back To A Reason

"So  
Drifting through the dark  
The sympathy  
Of night's mercy  
Inside my heart

Is your life the same?  
Do ghosts cry tears?  
Do they feel years?  
As time just goes on and on and on

Got to get back to a reason  
Got to back to a reason I once knew  
And this late in the season  
One by one distractions fade from view

…The only reason I have left is you."

~"Back To A Reason" by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra

* * *

Friday came quietly, passing to dusk without incident. Cookies were consumed, conversations were had, and bags were packed. By the time night descended, everything was ready to go.

"And I insist," Winona urged, pushing the bundle back at Spock. "Keep it. It looks better on you than it ever did on me."

Eventually Spock sighed and accepted the pink sweater.

"Thank you, Winona," the Vulcan said, pulling it back on.

"Well, it's cold in space," Winona said with a smile. "You can't possibly be warm up there. And besides, you're family now."

Her eyes softened in that motherly way that pulled at Spock's heart.

"Family takes care of each other. No matter where they are."

'_Mother,'_ thought Spock sadly. Winona rubbed his shoulder fondly and then turned to return to the kitchen.

"Do you want anything?" she asked, pausing in the doorway.

"No, thank you," the Vulcan replied. "But, could you tell me where Jim is?"

"He's outside, honey," Winona answered distractedly as she fished around in the cabinet for her tea bags.

Spock's eyebrow raised in alarm.

Winona caught sight of the expression and smiled. "Don't worry. He always spends at least one night here outside. He always comes in to sleep, though," she said reassuringly.

Spock nodded and began to walk toward the stairs, almost as if he was unsure of what to do with himself now that Jim was occupied.

He was stopped by Winona clearing her throat.

Spock faced her inquiringly to find her holding out his coat. In the other hand she held his hat and gloves. She smiled gently.

"I don't think he'd mind the company. If you want."

Spock extended his hand to take the coat.

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

He found Jim lying in the middle of the empty road on a quilted blanket. The captain had his arms folded behind his head to serve as a pillow. The crisp air had already colored his nose and cheeks slightly pink.

"Hey, Spock," he said, glancing up at the Vulcan with a faint smile.

"Am I interrupting you, Jim?"

"Nah," the captain replied, scooting over and pulling one of his arms out from it's tucked position to pat the empty space next to him in invitation.

After a moment, Spock lay down beside him.

"That up there is Orion," Jim said, pointing to the constellation above. Spock nodded. He knew all of Earth's constellations.

"There's Taurus, and the Pleiades," Jim listed, his finger tracing the bull in the air and then moving to point out the sisters.

Again, Spock nodded. He recognized that this must have some significance to his t'hy'la, because surely the captain was aware that Spock knew these constellations?

"Reticulum, Caelum, Mensa…" Jim continued, locating them with the ease of long-practice. "Dorado," he finished, following the five stars and tucking his arm behind his head again.

They lay in silence for a long time. The moon hung, full, in the sky and spread light over the snow. Spock turned to look at Jim's gently illuminated face.

Jim lowered one of his arms and intertwined his fingers with Spock's.

"My dad taught me those," Jim said quietly. "He learned them from my grandpa. I read it in a journal he kept. I had to steal it from Mom's room because she wouldn't let me see it."

Spock gently squeezed Jim's hand.

"I don't belong here," Jim said suddenly, sitting up. "Not here. Not _looking_ at them. I belong _with_ them. Up there."

Spock nodded and leaned his head against Jim's shoulder.

"We'll be back soon, t'hy'la," he murmured.

"You can't see the stars in San Francisco," Jim said sadly. "Too much light pollution."

He chuckled, sounding oddly like he might cry.

But of course he wouldn't.

"I've always thought it was funny, you know? Starfleet Academy in San Francisco, and you can't see the stars."

And Spock understood. Jim _needed_ the _Enterprise_, the stars, the _freedom_ of space. Here he felt trapped. Stuck planet-side, able to only stare up at where he'd been born and wish for shore leave to end. It must be maddening.

Space was as much a part of Jim as Vulcan had been of Spock.

And he missed it.

"We'll be home soon," Spock whispered, pressing the tips of his fingers to Jim. "Soon, t'hy'la."

An hour later, they went back inside.

* * *

Short but important chapter, at least in my opinion. Sorry it took so long to update, but I wanted to get the feel of it just right. I hope you liked it! Thank you to ALL of my reviewers!

* * *

**ANONS:**

**AyaMarr - **Thank you so much!

**LostSchizophrenic - **Thanks, dear! I'm glad the shortness wasn't annoying. Peace and long life!

**Jen - **I'm so happy! I'm glad the fluff changed your craptastic day, even if you don't like fluff. I can understand; I like angst, too. (In fact, I'm writing a hell of a depressing fic write now... ) I'm glad David and Pola brightened your day, and I hope that no more craptastic days come your way. :)

**TheOneTheyCallEcho - **YES. DO WANT. I want a planet of intoxicated Vulcans!

**kitchan - **Just because it's almost over doesn't mean you can stop reviewing! I NEED them! O.o *twitchtwitch* But alas, yes, 'tis almost over. :( There will be extra short cute chapters, though. XD Poor Spock. He is, isn't he? And I'm like Jim, too. The only difference is that there's no one to stop me from eating all the dough because I'M the one making the cookies. Uh oh. Jim's so random, it's great to write him~! Even _I_ dopn't know what he'll do next!

Thanks so much!

* * *

As always, my faithful readers, live long and prosper,

Tube


	13. Chapter 12: Mistletoe and Holly

"Oh by gosh, by golly,  
It's time for mistletoe and holly,  
Fancy ties and Grandma's pies  
And folks stealing a kiss or two,  
As they whisper Merry Christmas to you"

~"Mistletoe and Holly"

* * *

Jim and Spock stood in the doorway on Saturday morning, bags in hand. Winona fussed around, making sure that yes, they had everything, and no, they didn't need anything, and yeah, Mom, they were fine walking to the stop.

"Did you ask _Spock_ if it was okay to walk? I know _you_ want to, Jimmy, but—"

Jim glanced guiltily at Spock.

"I am not averse to walking," Spock said gently.

Winona took a deep breath and smiled.

"I know, I know," she sighed.

"She always gets like this when someone's leaving," Jim explained amusedly to Spock

"Most illogical," Spock said, laughter shining in his eyes.

"Oh, stop ganging up on me," Winona protested. "My mothering has stopped _you_ from leaving _quite_ a few things behind, Jimmy." But she backed off a few feet and just looked at them.

Then she stepped forward and hugged Jim tightly.

"Stay safe, Jimmy. Don't take any unnecessary risks, okay?"

"All of the risks I take are necessary," he promised, hugging her back just as hard.

Winona sniffed, and Jim feared for a moment that she might cry. But she just doubled the strength of her hug and squeezed her eyes shut.

Spock stood awkwardly to the side.

"Are you _sure_ you have everything?" Winona asked for the thousandth time as she pulled away.

"Yeah, Mom, we're sure," Jim answered again. He caught Spock's eyes and smiled as Winona began to fuss with their luggage again. "No matter what you say, she's going to hug you," Jim warned the Vulcan under his breath.

Spock had time to raise his eyebrow before he was enveloped by Winona's hug.

She squeezed him tightly and made him promise to stay safe and be careful and keep Jim in line before she let him go.

"Take care, Jimmy, Spock," Sam said, clapping Jim on the back and holding the salute up to Spock.

"Live long and prosper," Spock responded, raising his own salute.

"Goodbye, boys," Aurelan said fondly, pulling Jim into an awkward one-armed hug around Peter. She offered the salute to Spock, who returned it.

Peter gummed on Spock and Jim's sleeves in farewell.

"Bye Uncle Jim! By Uncle Spock!" the kids said, running up and hugging them. "Come see us soon, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Jim said, chuckling at the bemused expression on Spock's face.

"We insist that you come back soon," Winona said. "_Both_ of you."

The front door opened and the two Starfleet officers began to walk down the empty road. Jim glanced back to see his family waving to them from the porch.

He felt his heart swell. It really _had_ been too long since he'd seen them, hate of shore leave aside. And they had accepted Spock so easily!

He cupped his hands around his mouth.

"I love you!" he shouted, feeling the love fill him up. "_I love you!_"

They waved until he couldn't see them anymore.

*~*Merry Christmas*~*

The shuttle ride back was much less awkward then the one down. Jim and Spock conversed easily about everything but Jim's little breakdown last night, shoulders pressed together.

Some people were staring.

"_Now entering San Francisco shuttle port. Now entering San Francisco…"_ the intercom blared. Jim shifted and began to gather and check his and Spock's things.

"Hat? Gloves?" he asked, glancing over at the Vulcan.

"I have them, t'hy'la," Spock assured.

"Scarf? Coat? Luggage?"

"T'hy'la," Spock said patiently, laying his hand gently on Jim's shoulder.

"Right, right," Jim sighed, slumping into the seat next to Spock. "I'm turning into my mother!" he wailed, burying his face in his hands in mock horror. "Quick, Spock, kill me before it's too late!"

"Your melodrama is illogical," Spock pointed out amusedly. "And unnecessary."

Jim blinked.

"Are you calling me ridiculous?" he asked incredulously. Spock raised an eyebrow. "You _are!_" Jim huffed, trying and failing to sound offended. He childishly turned his back on Spock and stuck his bottom lip out, folding his arms in front of him.

Spock almost rolled his eyes.

"Jim—"

But he was cut off by the shuttle's arrival to the port. Jim grabbed their bags and stepped out of the shuttle, glancing back to check that Spock hadn't gotten lost in the crowd.

"Keptin!"

Jim looked over to see Chekov and Sulu emerging from the crowd, hand in hand. He smirked.

Looked like he and Spock weren't the only ones hooking up over leave.

He was about to respond when arms wrapped around him from behind.

"Do not move," Spock said evenly near his ear. The measured tones sent shivers down Jim's spine for reasons he couldn't quite place.

"I offended you earlier," the Vulcan continued, moving around in front of Jim. "Please allow me to make it up to you, Captain."

Jim nodded dumbly as Spock pressed their chests together.

The Vulcan's mouth descended on his insistently, and Jim's arms wrapped up around Spock's neck. The captain all but melted against his first officer.

If people hadn't been staring before, they were now.

Chekov's mouth had dropped open and he'd stopped walking. Sulu ran into him, not paying attention. They had been joined by Uhura who was watching the display impassively.

Spock had moved on the kissing Jim's neck as the captain rubbed his fingers up and down Spock's intimately.

Suddenly, Jim pushed Spock away gently and stepped back. Spock's darkened eyes watched him with confusion.

"If we don't stop now, middle of a shuttle port or not, I _will_ jump you," Jim explained breathlessly.

"Vhat vas _zat_?" Chekov asked, shocked, stepping forward as Spock composed himself.

"Hey Chekov, Sulu. Uhura." His nod to her came a bit hesitantly after theirs, but she didn't _look_ upset with him about this.

But women were tricky.

"I was simply observing an Earth custom, Ensign," Spock said calmly from behind Jim.

"What custom?" Sulu asked confusedly. Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Is mistletoe only a tradition in Iowa?" he asked, turning to Jim for clarification. "If so, I apologize."

"No, no," Jim said, glancing up. Sure enough, above their heads was a sprig of mistletoe. "It's everywhere."

Chekov kissed Sulu on the cheek while Uhura copped out by claiming she wasn't actually under it.

"You have god eyes," Jim commented as everyone collected their bags.

"Of course, Captain. I am a Vulcan."

And that was that.

* * *

I know, I know, Spock got a _little_ OOC in that last bit, but hey, I figure after spending a two weeks (give or take) in close quarters with emotional humans, experiencing Pon Farr, _and_ getting hand molested by Jim would make me a bit...distracted as well. Mabye not any of you, but definitely _me_.

Okay, the next chapter is the end, and because I love the end too much to spoil it with Author's Notes, I'm going to say everything here, in _this_ chapter. I had so much fun with this, and thank you ALL so much for reading, even if you didn't take the time to drop a review here or there. You all mkae me so happy, and it's people like you that remind me why I became a writer in the first place.

**I AM writing little one-shot bits for extra chapters that will be posted after the epilogue of 'Christmas.'** **_I AM TAKING REQUESTS FOR THINGS YOU'D LIKE TO SEE IN THIS UNIVERSE!!!!!_ If you have a moment you'd like me to take a shot at, I'd be more than willing to try.**

I hope you all have ideas (because I can't come up with things on my own...)!

* * *

**ANONS (and yes, I _will_ respond to all anon reviews to this chapter and the epilogue in the first one-shot installment):**

**kitchan - **Ah, I see now. I understand. Sorry for flipping out on you! That would have been funny, I agree. Maybe in an omake? XD You'll see about the sweater, that's all i have to say about that. And the story never really ends, as long as people read it! (and send me ideas! Speaking of which, do you have any?). And this story has the MOST reviews of any I've posted, by like a 100+ margin. I'm so happy!

**LostSchizophrenic - **Aw, thanks, honey! *huggles you*

**jerhanner -** Thanks so much! Packing? Are you going somewhere?

**TheOneTheyCallEcho - **Actually, IF I get motivated, there might be a sequel. But otherwise, it'll just be little one-shot omakes and add-ons. Thanks so much!

* * *

Now, I hope you all have enjoyed this run as much as I have, and I'll se you in the epilogue!

Live long and prosper,

Tube


	14. Epilogue: This Christmas Day

"So, tell me Christmas  
Are we wise  
To believe in things we never see  
Are prayers just wishes in disguise  
And are these wishes being granted me  
For now I see  
The answering  
To every prayer I've prayed"

~"This Christmas Day" by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra

* * *

He truly had never been happier. The bridge of the _Enterprise_ sparkled around him, repaired, upgraded, and ready to go. Everyone manned their stations, and Jim could feel Spock's presence like a constant warmth in the back of his mind.

The last check had finished this morning, and Scotty had given it the go-ahead.

That was just what Kirk wanted to hear.

"Status, Spock?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"All stations give green, Jim," the Vulcan reported faithfully. If anyone was surprised to hear the captain's first name out of his mouth, no one showed it.

Then again, the helmsman, navigator, and communications officer had all seen them making out, so Jim supposed hearing Spock say his name wasn't actually that much of a surprise.

Jim took a deep breath and closed his eyes, just for a second. When he opened them again, he turned to Chekov.

"Set in a course for Centaurus, Ensign," he ordered. It was time to get Bones.

Spock stepped away from his station to stand next to Jim's chair. Gently, he pressed his fingertips to Jim's.

"Welcome home, t'hy'la," he whispered, and Jim grinned.

"Helmsman, take us out."

Space slid by fluidly, and Jim stared out the front viewscreen, thoughts for once a million miles away in the opposite direction.

Maybe next time they had shore leave he'd take Spock to Iowa again. Being planetside wasn't so bad, when Spock was around.

Next Christmas they'd have hot chocolate.

Next Christmas they'd get along _all_ the time.

Maybe next Christmas he'd get Spock another bear…

_Christmas Eve will find me  
__Where the lovelight gleams  
__I'll be home for Christmas  
I__f only in my dreams…  
__~  
__If only in my dreams_


	15. 1: Permission Granted

**Permission Granted**

**for those who wanted Spock to wear the sweater around the Enterprise**

**-------------**

Jim was worried. Spock hadn't been late for a shift _ever_, but it was now fifteen minutes into Alpha shift and no Vulcan science officer was present on the bridge.

The captain tapped his fingers on the armrest of the command chair before swinging around to study the doors of the turbolift.

Sixteen minutes into shift.

Seventeen minutes into shift.

Now, everyone was aware that Spock wasn't on the bridge yet and they were just as surprised as Kirk was. Spock was usually here twenty minutes _before_ any of them! Jim twisted in his chair again so he was facing the front viewscreen.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap…_ His fingers beat a constant tattoo on the armrest, and that was the only indication that he was upset. Nervous. He chided himself silently. He shouldn't worry about his Vulcan. Spock was probably just checking something over in one of the labs and the time had slipped his mind.

Comforted by that completely _impossible_ option, Jim titled his head slightly towards the science station.

"Computer, location of Commander Spock," he demanded.

"_Working,_" the computer replied. "_Commander Spock is on Deck five, room 3F 112."_

"What?" Jim whispered incredulously. He blinked. "Computer, is that location accurate?"

Jim wondered if it was possible for a computer to sound indignant.

"_Affirmative. Location confirmed."_

"Thank you, Computer," Jim responded distractedly. _Deck five? Room 3F 112?_ Impossible. That was _his_ room. The captain's quarters. What was Spock doing there?

Well, actually Jim _knew_ what Spock had been doing there last night, but…

But what was the Vulcan doing there _twenty-five minutes into shift?_ He hadn't been there when Jim left…

The captain sighed and rubbed his temple. Yeah, if he had been any one else, he would have let Spock stay in bed, or _whatever_ he was doing. But the _entire_ bridge crew had heard the computer say that Spock was in Jim's quarters, so he couldn't do anything but get the Vulcan.

Anything else would be favoritism.

He pressed a button on the arm of his chair. "Bridge to captain's quarters."

He waited.

-------------

_Whee-ooo~_

The boson's whistle sounded again, and Spock buried his face under Jim's pillow.

"Computer," he rasped. "Raise temperature to 100 degrees Fahrenheit."

"_Working."_ Seconds later, three mechanical beeps indicated that the temperature had been raised.

_Whee-ooo~_

"_Bridge to captain's quarters,_" Jim's voice said again. "_Spock?"_

Finally, Spock pushed himself up and pressed the button on the wall panel.

"Spock here, Captain," he said quietly. His voice was hoarse and his throat was killing him. Of course, that was nothing to him. He was a Vulcan.

"_Spock? Are you all right?"_

"Yes, Captain, of course. Why do you inquire?"

"_It's just that, well…"_ Jim hesitated. _"It's…uh…why are you in my quarters?"_

Spock blinked. "Captain, I was under the impression that our earlier activities transpired with your full consent—"

Abruptly, Jim cleared his throat. "_Uh, yeah, Spock. That's not what I meant."_

Spock could almost hear his t'hy'la's blush. Once again, he blinked. Then something hit him; Jim was calling from the _bridge_. His eyes widened slightly in an unusual display of surprise.

"Computer," he barked, "time?"

"_0830 hours,"_ the computer announced.

Spock cleared his throat and turned back to the wall comm. "I shall be on the bridge momentarily, Captain. I apologize for my absence."

"_No, no, Spock. Take your time. You sound awful. Have you seen Bones yet?"_

"I assure you, that is not necessary, Jim," Spock said distractedly, before he began to cough violently. He had, unfortunately, not removed his hand from the comm panel.

"_Spock? On second thought, stay where you are. I'll be down in a minute. Kirk out."_ The panel gave a small click to indicate that communications had ended, and Spock stared at it accusingly.

"Illogical," he muttered to himself, but nonetheless wandered over to the bed and sat down again, pulling a blanket over his head. He reached over and cuddled David to his chest, having left Pola in his own quarters. "I am perfectly capable of performing my duties."

Wisely, the bear did not respond.

-------------

True to his word, Jim arrived moments later. He paused just inside the doorframe to let himself adjust to the rapid temperature increase. Something was _definitely _wrong if Spock had the temperature up this high.

"T'hy'la?" he ventured, stepping further into the room and looking around. The methodically wrapped lump on the bed gave a hum of acknowledgement, but nothing else. Jim walked over and laid a hand where he thought Spock's shoulder was.

"That is my hip, t'hy'la," Spock said, sounding amused even through the scratch of his throat.

Jim began to rub Spock's hip comfortingly.

"Cold?" he asked gently. What he assumed to be Spock's head nodded. "I brought you something."

Spock slowly pried the blankets off of him, reluctantly exposing himself to the cool (by _his_ standards, at least) air. "What?" he asked, curious despite his desire to stay warm.

"A touch of home," Jim responded. "Now, raise your arms."

Spock did so, and Jim pulled the pink sweater he'd retrieved from Spock's quarters over the Vulcan's head. Spock sighed contentedly and wrapped his arms around himself. Jim tucked the blankets around Spock again.

"So, how do you feel?" the captain asked, settling himself down next to his lover.

"I am capable of performing my duties, Captain," Spock assured, leaning his head on Jim's shoulder tiredly.

"I don't think so," Jim said, laughing softly. "Tomorrow, _maybe._"

Spock looked offended.

"I assure you, Jim, I am completely able to—" He cut himself off with the most adorable sneeze Jim had ever heard. Wordlessly, Jim offered him a tissue from the side table.

"No, t'hy'la. You stay here today. Sleep, relax, get better. If I even _suspect_ that you've been working…" Jim let the threat trail off, letting Spock conclude from it what he would. The effect was softened by Jim smoothing down the covers, though.

"Jim…"

"Shh. Do you want me to get Bones?"

"That will not be necessary," Spock said, a tad too quickly, and Jim chuckled.

"Okay, then. You just hang out." Jim leaned forward and placed a kiss on Spock's forehead. "I'll be back at lunchtime, okay?"

Spock nodded and settled back against the pillows Jim had set up for him. He listened as the doors shut behind his t'hy'la, and resigned himself to a day of doing _nothing._ The prospect was not appealing.

However, he began to feel sleep tugging at the edges of his focus and eventually succumbed, finding nothing better to do with his time.

---------------

Jim tried to not be preoccupied on the bridge, but he kept glancing at the science station and found himself momentarily confused when it was not Spock there _every time_.

"Captain?" Uhura asked for the seventh time, and Kirk finally looked over.

"Yes? Sorry, what was that, Lieutenant?"

"I was asking how Spock was, Captain." She had gotten over the fact that her ex and her captain were dating surprisingly quickly, and now offered her support when it was needed. "Is he okay?"

"He just has a cold, I think," Jim said fondly. "It's making him sneeze, cough, you know, the whole shebang." He snickered. "I think the actual worst part of it is that he's put out about not being able to do his job."

She offered him a smile. It was start at least. Even if she didn't mind that Spock was dating him didn't mean she _liked _him. Nope.

Jim returned to thinking about Spock, momentary distraction passed. _Was_ Spock all right? Was he comfortable? What if he needed something but was too congested to ask?!

"Captain? Captain!"

"Gah!" Jim exclaimed, looking frantically around the bridge to identify the crisis; see who'd been talking. Sulu was trying to hide his amusement, so Jim figured it must be him.

"Yes, Mr. Sulu?" Jim asked, miffed.

"I was simply wondering if you'd like me to take the conn, sir," he asked with a knowing smile.

Jim glanced around at the rest of the bridge crew to find them all nodding encouragingly. He sighed, trying to look resigned.

"Well, if you're all so eager to see me out of the chair, I guess I _will_ go eat some lunch." And by _eat some lunch_, he meant _check on Spock and hover around_. Everyone knew it.

Jim got up and headed toward the turbolift doors. "You have the conn, Mr. Sulu."

The chuckles followed him until the doors closed.

------------------

The bowl of _plomeek_ soup on the tray in front of him steamed happily as he made his way back to Spock's last known location. Jim hummed to himself softly and checked to make sure that the bowl of soup and the tea mug on the tray were balanced as he approached the door.

It was locked.

He sighed. "Captain's override: Kirk Omega Alpha Seven." The door opened smoothly, and he smiled to find Spock sleeping.

"T'hy'la," he whispered gently, and a few moments later, Spock stretched and glanced up.

"Jim," Spock acknowledged sleepily. "Time?"

"1200 hours, on the dot, love," the captain answered, setting down the soup. "Hungry?"

"Not particularly."

Jim smiled slightly, and nodded in understanding. "I know, but you should try to eat something anyway. You never know, it might help you get better faster."

Spock looked unconvinced, but picked up the spoon anyway.

"Is everything all right on the bridge, Captain?" he asked as he raised the first spoonful of soup to his mouth. Jim nodded, studying Spock carefully. It looked like his earlier worries were unfounded; Spock seemed fine, aside from the occasional sniffle and cough.

"How are you feeling, Spock?" he asked, waiting for a confirmation of what he'd already observed.

"Eighty-five percent capacity, Captain. Well enough to work." The intention was clear, and Spock's pointed look took out any of the subtlety that may have remained.

"Yes, I can see that you are. Well, Mr. Spock, get a few hours more of rest, and if you're feeling up to it, report to the bridge for Beta shift at 1600 hours." He smiled gently and brushed Spock's hair off his forehead. "Let's see if we can get that eighty-five up to a ninety, okay?"

"Understood, Captain," Spock said gratefully. Really, there was only so much sitting around he could do in one day. "I will report for Beta shift on time."

Jim held Spock's eyes for a moment, weighing whether or not he'd made the right choice, and smiled.

"See that you do, Commander." Jim took a minute to watch Spock reach for the tea that Jim had brought. Vanilla-cinnamon. Jim's favorite. The Vulcan breathed in the steam appreciatively before taking a sip to soothe his aching throat. "Oh, and Spock?"

"Yes, t'hy'la?" Spock asked, glancing up.

"Get better soon, all right?"

A hint of amusement lit up Spock's eyes, and he nodded. "It will be my top priority, Jim."

-------------------

At 1600 hours, the first of the Beta shift began to trickle onto the bridge, and Jim rose from the chair as his replacement approached.

"Sir, you're relieved," the commander stated promptly.

"Thank you, Mr. Briggs," Jim said as he began to walk to the door. Maybe he could catch Spock before the man reported for shift and see if he was feeling any better…

He ran into his first officer outside of the captain's quarters.

"Spock, how are you?" was the first thing out of his mouth. Spock's eyes lit with humor for a moment.

"Functioning at ninety-three percent efficiency, Captain. May I report to the bridge?"

"You may," Jim said, distractedly reaching up and smoothing Spock's hair. "Ninety-three percent. A marginal difference. Perhaps you're simply over-tired. Am I working you too hard, Spock?"

"Not at all, Jim," Spock assured, attempting to wipe away the captain's flash of guilt. "I work myself to my level of capability. Any fault lies solely with myself."

Jim's mouth quirked up in an echo of a smile.

"Sure. Just check with me before you assign yourself any more projects, then, okay? At least give me that much."

"As you wish, Captain." Spock began to walk toward the turbolift doors, but stopped and turned back to face Jim. "Captain? Permission to report to duty in present attire?"

Jim looked Spock up and down, his smile growing.

"Just a moment, Commander." He disappeared into his room and returned a moment later, holding a sliver Starfleet insignia pin. He trotted over to Spock and pinned it to the left breast of the pink sweater.

He leaned up and kissed Spock's temple before stepping back to survey his handiwork.

"Permission granted."

* * *

Awww, snuggle-fest. :) So, I hope everyone liked it. I had SO much fun writing it! And just a little note here: **THE ONE SHOTS ARE STAND ALONE FICS THAT HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH ONE ANOTHER.**

Okay? Good.

* * *

**ANONS:**

**LostSchizophrenic - **Oh, thanks honey. Thank you for all of your support throughout the whole fic. The sequel might get written--I don't know yet. Depends on how ambitious I get.

Spock Prime _knows_. They didn't tell him, but he _knows._ 'Cause he's awesome. I'm going to write Sarek finding out. Bones finds out in a letr one-shot. XD

**kitchan - **This one's for you, hun. You have great ideas! If you don't mind, I believe I'll use some more of them. ;) Thanks for all of the support and kind words!

It was definitely the hugging. No doubt about it. Poor Spock couldn't hold the love inside, so he had to make out with Jim. Or something. XD

* * *

Thank you to _all_ of you who revgiew, and to those of you who lurk but don't comment! You ALL are loved!


	16. 2: Yes Sir, Captain TightPants

**Yes Sir, Captain Tight-Pants**

**for AlmightySeaKelp and MissSilver**

**----------------**

"Captain—" Spock began, but he stopped talking when he saw the look on Jim's face. Instead, he just sighed and closed his eyes. Jim wiggled his eyebrows suggestively when no one was looking.

"Yes Mr. Spock? Was there a problem?"

"…No, Captain," Spock answered matter-of-factly. There wasn't a problem, really. Except that the Captain had been trying to seduce him all shift with improper speech.

With mixed results.

"Good, because I would _hate_ for there to be a problem," Kirk grinned. Spock would have rolled his eyes, had he not been a Vulcan. As it was, he just walked away from the command chair and back over to his station.

"We are approaching the boundary, Captain," Sulu announced as the _Enterprise_ flew swiftly and smoothly on. "What action should we take?"

Jim smirked and glanced over at Spock.

"What do you say, Spock? Should we continue forward and _penetrate_ the boundary line?"

Spock sent him a look that was clearly not amused.

"I believe it would be advantageous, Captain," Spock said evenly, "however, you must be careful. It would not be wise to expose the ship to any unnecessary danger."

"Not to worry, Spock," Jim assured. "I'll take care of everything. I fly my _ship_ very well."

Jim was quite sure, had Spock been _anyone_ else, the Vulcan would have had his face buried in his hands by now.

Chekov glanced over at Sulu with wide eyes as Bones stepped out of the turbolift.

"Are they really…?" the young Russian asked, looking between Kirk and Spock and then back at Sulu. "You know…"

Sulu snickered.

"Is everything ready and prepared, Mr. Spock?" Jim asked from the command chair. Spock stilled for a moment before replying.

"Yes, Captain. All is ready."

"Good. Thrusters on full." Jim glanced over at Spock, whose eyebrow gave a slightly irritated twitch, but nothing more.

"Boundary passed, Captain," Spock informed stiffly. Jim nodded and stood from the chair, walking over to Spock's station.

"Kirk _in_," Jim said quietly next to Spock's ear, so low only the Vulcan could hear it.

Well, Spock _and_ Bones.

But Jim didn't know that.

Bones glanced over at the two of them, wondering why the hell they were so close. And what was with Jim's comment? 'Kirk in?'

Jim set one of his hands on Spock's shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. Bones wondered what _exactly_ he had missed while on Centaurus for Christmas. From the way everyone else was giggling, it was something major.

Jim began to rub his thumb into Spock's shoulder, giving a hiss that sounded a lot like…_well_…

"You're very tight, Mr. Spock," he said, licking his lips provocatively. Spock flushed slightly green and leaned into Jim's touch.

Bones's mouth dropped open and his eye began to twitch.

"Set a steady pace, and make sure it's smooth and gentle," Kirk called. He directed it at the helm, but he'd leaned farther into Spock's personal space.

Suddenly, everything fell into place for Bones. All week since he'd gotten back they'd been making weird remarks like, "Have you checked Spock for structural damage?" and "You should make sure the Captain gets adequate rest every night, Doctor." They'd been hinting at something he hadn't gotten.

Now it made sense.

"_Ugh!"_ Bones exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. Jim turned to look at him with an expression on surprised but amused bafflement. Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, Bones?" Jim asked.

"Oh for _God's sake_, would you leave it in your quarters?! I don't want to have to listen to you—you—_ugh!_" Bones stuttered out. Finally, after a period of flailing in which Jim had become quite concerned, Bones let his arms fall to his sides and began to take deep breaths.

"What?" Jim asked innocently, though his eyes shown with an evil light that would haunt Bones for years to come. "I'm only talking about the ship Bones. Really, now. Get your mind out of the gutter."

Bones left the bridge.

* * *

Oh my God, I am SO sorry. I fail at innuendos. DX I wrote this for SeaKelp, who asked for Jim seducing Spock with innuendos on the bridge, and MissSilver, who asked for Bones to find out about their relationship in a funny way. I hope everyone enjoyed!

The title of this fic is a quote from...can anyone guess? Firefly! That's right! Another of my all-time favorite SciFi shows.

I'm posting this chapter in honor of Star Trek's anniversary! Today, September 8th, Star Trek aired for the first time in 1966. Happy day!

* * *

**ANONS:**

**kitchan - **Thanks so much! I know how you feel on the homework front. By posting this chapter, I'm procrastinating on doing mine. You have great ideas, so I'd love to use them! Hmm...I might just have to write a reaction fic now... XD

**the (usually) silent lurker - **Thanks for the tip, but I would actually rather post them here, simply because I don't want to have to send people to my profile to find them. I don't know. Maybe it's a personal preference? I myself am more likely to read add-ons at the end of a fic than go looking for them. Maybe I'm just lazy? XD

**LostSchizophrenic - **He just would know, you know? Because he and HIS Jim hooked up, too. :) RL sucks. I hate homework.

* * *

Live long and prosper, everyone! And thank you to all my readers and reviewers!


	17. 3: How Much Is A Life Worth?

**How Much Is A Life Worth?**

**for kitchan**

**-------------**

He had to keep telling himself that it didn't matter.

The ship was under attack; three Romulan Warbirds, although they were easily two light years away from the Neutral Zone. The bridge was in shambles and the scanners weren't working. The viewscreen wasn't either.

That didn't matter.

They had shields, thank God, but they wouldn't hold for long. Spock was calmly and efficiently listing statistics—aft shields down to 40%, first phasers destroyed, second phasers charging, warp power out, half impulse power restored…

How many people were dead?

Jim didn't want to think about it as he ordered Chekov to fire second phasers, standard spread. "Sulu? What about photon torpedoes?"

"Impossible, sir!" was the reply.

"They are firing," Spock warned with an edge in his voice. Jim wondered, not for the first time, if this was something he couldn't get his ship out of. His crew counted on him. They were _his responsibility_, dammit!

He pounded the comm. button. "All decks brace for impact!"

The bridge shook as the attack landed, and Jim pitched forward. He was dimly aware that his head hit the railing, and Spock was out of his seat.

"Captain! _T'hy'la!_"

Jim pushed himself up, wiping the blood off his face so he didn't have to worry about it. All he needed now was to be able to see.

"Status of the Warbirds?" he shouted for anyone to answer.

"One disabled, with the others coming around for another attack," Spock responded, shaking off his brief worry for the captain.

Jim swiped the blood off his forehead again.

"Sulu, evasive maneuvers, best as you can. Chekov! Fire another spread!"

"Aye, sir!"

"Yes, Keptin!"

"Are our shields holding?" he asked Spock.

"They will not, Jim."

"Shit," the Captain swore. "Uhura! Any luck with Starfleet?"

"The closest ship is an hour away, Captain. They've been alerted to our mayday—"

"Good. _Fuck. _Not good enough!"

Another explosion rocked the ship and Jim stumbled. His arm was caught by Spock, who steadied him without a word. He nodded, and then strode forward to Sulu's console.

"Sulu?"

"It's too slow, Captain. The helm's sluggish and I can't get her out of the way—"

Jim squeezed Sulu's shoulder.

"You're doing great. Just keep trying."

And then the engineering station blew up.

The man who'd been working at it flew backward, over the railing. Smoke billowed across the bridge, and people began to cough, their eyes stinging. Jim swore again and ran over to the man.

"You!" he said to a security officer. "Get him to sickbay!"

The man nodded, picking up the injured crewman and running into the turbolift. Jim surveyed the bridge, breath coming in rapid bursts. He made a decision.

"Clear the bridge! Head to the evacuation pods to launch on my signal!"

At first, no one moved. Spock was staring at him incredulously, soot and burn marks patterning his face and uniform. He looked like he would protest.

"_Now._" There was no room for argument.

As his crew rose and began to enter the turbolift, he felt Spock's hand on his shoulder.

"You come, too, t'hy'la."

But Jim shook his head.

"No. I have to hold them off. You go. Now. Get to the shuttles and go. Stay safe."

"_Jim_. I will not leave you." Spock's voice had steel in it. "You cannot ask me to—"

"I wasn't. I order you to evacuate the ship with the rest of the crew, Commander and lead them to safety. _Now._"

Spock's hand tightened on his shoulder as another station blew.

"Go," Jim said again. And he gave Spock a slight push toward the turbolift. "Spend next Christmas with my mother. Tell outrageous stories to our nephews. _Go._"

Spock hesitantly took another step toward the lift.

"I mean it! Go!"

Finally, Spock stepped into the lift.

"I love you," Jim said. "I love you."

Spock closed his eyes.

"I love you, too, t'hy'la." The lift doors closed.

Jim turned back to the wrecked viewscreen, hearing the 'abandon ship' alert ringing around the bridge, and knowing the crew would be running in orderly lines down to the escape pods.

Spock was with them, thank God.

He resolutely made his way to the tactical station, firing another spread of bursts at the two remaining ships. He had to keep the pods out of the line of fire, and if the only way to do that was by drawing all attention to himself, it didn't matter.

It didn't.

One of the shots hit the engine of a Warbird, and the ship began to spin. Jim grinned. One left. He hoped his lady was up to it. Next to him, the helm control went up in a shower of sparks. His left arm went numb, but he told himself not to worry about it.

There was a small beep somewhere on the bridge that told him that all the pods had been launched. All right. Time to start protection detail.

There were no shields. He had a half-charged bank of phasers and near inoperative controls to shoot them with. But that was fine, because Spock was safe and there was only one ship left.

His head was killing him.

That didn't matter.

He couldn't even feel his left arm.

That didn't matter either.

He rerouted all controls to the command chair and set himself down, for the last time. The vision in his right eye was blurred by the blood, and he only knew he still had a left arm because of the weight on his shoulder. His side was burned. His hands were shaking with adrenaline and maybe—just maybe—fear.

But he was laughing.

It was uncontrollable. Jim couldn't stop, so he didn't even try. This was it. Death. And he could laugh at it. As long as he could keep himself together, nothing else mattered.

He took a deep breath as the few working consoles in the ship alerted him that the Romulans were firing. He had no shields. No deflectors. Nothing but his courage.

"Hey, Dad," he said quietly, and fired his own phasers.

There was an explosion, and then…

Nothing.

----------

The afterlife looked a lot like sickbay. Smelled like it, too. Jim groaned and tried to bring his arm up to shield his eyes from the lights, only to find that it wouldn't move.

Neither of them would.

Quietly, he began to panic. He couldn't see anything. His head was _killing_ him. He couldn't move his arms.

He glanced down and found that the reason his arms weren't moving was because they were strapped to the bed his was in. Okay, so people in heaven were interested in bondage? Or maybe he was in hell.

The pain of a hypospray brought him back to reality.

"Ouch! Stop it!" Okay, definitely in hell.

"Oh, good. He's coming around. He's coming around! Spock!"

That was definitely Bones's voice. And he was talking to Spock.

_Maybe I am in heaven, after all…_ Jim mused, before the realization hit him hard. If he was in heaven and Bones and Spock were here, too, did that mean that _they were dead?_

"No!" Jim exclaimed, and tried to sit up.

"Stay down, Jim," Bones commanded. "You'll only make your injuries worse, if that's even possible. I didn't just do three hours of surgery on you for nothing. _Stay down_."

"I'm sorry," Jim mumbled as Bones injected him with another hypo.

"You damn well _should _be," the doctor remarked gruffly. "But thank God you're alive."

"Alive?" It was barely a whisper as the sedative took effect, but Bones heard it.

"Yeah, alive. Welcome to the _Lexington, _Captain." He squeezed Jim's hand, and then Jim passed out.

----------

When Jim woke up again, Spock was stroking his hair.

"T'hy'la, are you well?" the Vulcan asked softly. "If not, I believe I will never forgive you."

Jim couldn't tell if he had been meant to hear that, so he stirred like he was just waking now. "Spock? That you?"

Spock removed his hand from Jim's hair, settling it on Jim's right hand instead. "Yes, Jim. I am here. How do you feel?"

"Fine," Jim said, and was surprised to see that it was true. The ache in his head was gone, and he could move his arms and legs. He saw that David and Pola were nestled by his side and wondered when Spock had had time to grab them. "Am I allowed to sit up?"

Spock nodded and helped Jim into a slightly stiff sitting position. Jim leaned against Spock's chest, but drew away as the sound of the sickbay doors opening reached his ears.

He knew Spock wanted to keep their relationship private.

Jim was surprised by how many of his crewmembers filed into the sickbay. They all stood at attention; Sulu, Chekov, Uhura, and Scotty, followed by most of the science crew, the engineers, the security officers…

"Captain!" Sulu exclaimed, breaking into a smile.

"You are alright! I knew you vould not die," Chekov said.

"I'm so glad," Uhura said wiping her eyes.

"Bless ye, laddie," Scotty said in wonder.

"All right, all right, stop gawking at him and let me through," Bones commanded, pushing through the crowd. "Though he may not look like it, he _did_ almost blow up with his ship."

Spock stiffened slightly next to Jim.

"He's still healing, so be gentle with him until I've given the clear." Bones turned a critical eye on Jim. "That means _you_, too. You were dead for three minutes. I'm not about to let you just be up and around."

Spock had taken hold of Jim's sleeve, surreptitiously. He didn't seem like he was letting go any time soon.

"Dead? For three minutes?" Jim asked confusedly. "I was pretty sure I was going to be dead for longer than that."

"You were very, _very_ lucky. The _Lexington _pushed Warp 8 to get here. And they arrived in time to save you."

"Dead…" Jim muttered again, disbelievingly. He _had_ seen his father, then. It hadn't just been a fantasy.

"Yeah. You died in Spock's arms," Bones said quietly.

Jim gasped, and glanced up at his white-faced Vulcan. "Spock…"

Spock knelt down next to the bed to put his face level with Jim's. Heedless of the many crewmen watching, the Vulcan took Jim's face in his hands. He met Jim's eyes and held them with his own.

"You will never do such a thing again," Spock ordered firmly. Jim could have made a joke about how he was Spock's commanding officer, but he didn't.

He recognized the look in Spock's eyes.

"I promise, t'hy'la," he whispered instead. Spock leaned forward and pressed his forehead to the captain's, closing his eyes.

"I will hold you to it, Jim. And if a situation like that ever occurs again…"

Jim understood. If it ever happened again, Spock didn't want to leave him. If it ever happened again, Spock wouldn't listen to orders. He would stay and die with Jim.

"It won't," the captain promised, even though he knew he could ensure no such thing. He felt Spock nod.

And then Spock kissed him.

In front of a large percent of their crew _and_ the _Lexington's_, Spock kissed him. It was soft and gentle, full of the love Spock had never spoken aloud except when Jim had been about to—

He didn't want to think about that, so instead Jim just kissed Spock back.

When they pulled away from each other, the sickbay was completely silent. Jim surveyed the reactions of his crewmembers. Most of them looked shocked or surprised. None of them looked disgusted, at least.

Then, somewhere down the line, someone remarked under their breath, "_Finally._"

Spock blinked.

Silence fell again, and the offending crewman didn't say anything thing else.

Jim resolved to find the man and congratulate him as soon as he stopped laughing.

* * *

I hoenstly have NO idea where this came from. kitchan asked for a fic about Spock kissing Jim on the bridge, and this was the result. I hope it's okay, anyway.

* * *

**ANONS:**

**kitchan - **Here you are, love. I hope you liked it. Innuendos annoy me in real life, even though I'm the one usually interperating them in the naughty way. XD I love the idea you gave me for the alternate Jim and Spock, so if you don't mind, I think I'll use it. :)

**LostSchizophrenic - **I want to write a fic where Sarek finds out, now. You can bet that I will. ;)

**TheOneTheyCallEcho - **Thanks so much!

* * *

Thanks so much to everyone for all your support!

Live long and prosper!


	18. 4: Of Crimson Snow 1 of 2

Hello everyone! Yes, I KNOW it's been FOREVER since I posted anything, and I'm very, very sorry. I just..._fell_ out of the ST phase, I guess, and i can't own the movie until Christmas, since it was released too close to Christmas for my parents to let me go out and buy it. DDD:

So, anyway, here is the fic. It's set on a planet similar to Tarsus IV, and the italics are flashbacks.

Disclaimer: If I owned Spock and Kirk, the slash would be much more than _implied_.

* * *

**Of Crimson Snow and Broken Hearts, Part 1 of 2**

**for Dana Katherine**

**----------**

This wasn't supposed to happen. Jim knew it. It hadn't been supposed to happen last time, and sure as _hell_ not this time.

The snow crunched under his boots.

"Kirk to _Enterprise,_" he whispered, clutching the child's body closer. "_Enterprise,_ please respond." The child shivered, and Jim pulled her closer, closer. She had no coat, and no boots. Her blond curls were matted to her face by sweat, dirt, and…blood.

He wondered whose blood it was.

Maybe it belonged to the people in the ditch, about 100 yards away. Or maybe it was her father's. Or her mother's. Or her brother's.

Maybe it was her own.

--

_The snow fell thickly as he forced his way through the woods. The children following left red footprints that were soon covered by innocent white, but he knew they were still there._

_The blood._

_The blood._

_God, there was so much blood—_

_--_

Jim shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around her shaking shoulders.

"It'll be all right," he whispered. "Everything will be all right. I promise."

She sniffled and turned her tear-streaked face up to look at him. Her little hands fisted in his shirt as her tears started anew.

"Hey, hey, it'll be okay. What's your name?" He stroked her hair back from her forehead and rocked her gently back and forth.

"Emmy. What's yours?"

"I'm Jim." Her pulled out his communicator and flipped it open again. "Kirk to _Enterprise._ _Enterprise_, please respond! _Enterprise!_"

There was no response.

"What's the _Enterprise?_" Emmy asked, searching for anything, _anything_ to take her mind off of the situation.

"She's my ship," Jim answered soothingly. "Honey, how old are you?"

"I'm six," she said proudly. "My birthday was…yesterday." Yesterday. The day her parents and her brother had been murdered. Shot down in the ditch by laser rifles, just like on—

Oh _God._

"Is there anyone else?" he asked her, fearing the answer. He crouched down by a rock. "Anyone at all?"

"Only the people in the parkas," she answered as he set her down momentarily, and pulled her knees up to her chest. "Only them and me. And now you." She glanced up at him innocently. "Is your ship coming back?"

Jim sighed and got up. He didn't know. Maybe they already _were_ back, but communications had cut out? Or maybe the ion storm had lasted longer than Spock had anticipated?

"They just _left_ you here?" she asked, horrified. "I don't think I'd like to go with them, if they did that to you. You're nice."

"They didn't leave me," he said softly, trying not to look at the bodies of his crewmen around him. His entire security detail, dead.

The stench of burnt flesh was heavy in the air, and Jim suddenly wished that he didn't have a nose. Or eyes. Hell, he wished he wasn't here at all.

But if he hadn't come, Emmy would probably have died.

But everything was the same. The same sights, the same smell, the same hopeless feelings…just like back then. He couldn't stand it.

And once again, Starfleet got there too late.

He reached down and took her hand, leading her away from the pit where her family lay gone, but never forgotten.

--

"_Gone," the boy said, "yes, they're gone. But as long as we remember them, they'll always be in our hearts, okay? Just keep them close."_

_The kids nodded, and one by one they threw the rocks they had been holding into the pit. They muttered the names of their lost ones, and the stones became impromptu grave markers._

_The snow had covered the bodies._

_--_

"Are they coming back?" she asked again. He hurried her along as he thought he caught the slight sigh of voices on the wind. The snow had begun to fall, the flakes drifting down innocently, trying to heal the scars left on this world.

Nothing could do that.

"Come on. We need to get out of here. How many people have parkas?"

"I don't know," she answered sadly. "They're fighting over the food, though. I heard them say that whoever kills me gets the last of it."

Jim shivered. That was _fantastic_ motivation, whether or not it was true, and it made his job harder. He had to keep this little girl alive, no matter what. She _had_ to live.

--

"_Don't worry, Edith, I'll keep you safe. I won't let anything happen to you." He pulled all of the children close to him. "_Any_ of you. We'll make it out of here. I promise."_

_--_

"Edith," he muttered sadly. Then he shook his head. Now was no time to be living in the past. It had been _thirteen years_, dammit! He had only recently been able to stomach snow again. He'd gotten good at hiding his revulsion of it. Hell, he'd even relearned to play in it like a good little boy.

"Who's she?" Emmy asked. "A friend of yours? Is she—was she here?" She held his hand tighter, with reassurance.

"She was—" he took a breath. "Yeah. She was here a long time ago."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry." And, just like that, she began to cry. She was crying for her family, and herself, and all of those who had died here. She was crying for Edith, and the other children he hadn't been able to—

And she was crying for him.

"Hey," he said, wiping her eyes gently. "It'll be okay. I promise."

And this was a promise he intended to keep.

-----------------

"_Enterprise,_ come in _Enterprise_," he tried again. "Spock? Can you hear me? Anyone?"

Nothing.

He sighed and handed her half of the ration bar in his emergency kit.

"Don't eat it too quickly," he cautioned, "or you'll make yourself sick." Obligingly, she slowed down and took smaller bites. Her face was scrunched up in an expression of pure delight.

"How long has it been since you ate?" he asked.

"Three days," was her answer. "I caught a bird, earlier, but it was all…_icky_ inside. And I haven't seen any birds around anymore, either."

Jim knew why. The birds had starved or been poisoned by now. They would all be dead.

--

"_Look what we found, Jimmy!"_

"_It's a bird!"_

"_Can we eat it? Huh, Jimmy?"_

"_No, no, you can't," he said, although it hurt him to see their faces drop so quickly. "It's been poisoned. If you eat it, you'll get sick. It's not worth it." He gathered them closer, and had them link hands. "Don't worry. I'll find something."_

_--_

He shook the thoughts away. He needed to focus on the living right now, not the dead. He wouldn't fail her like he had them.

"We have to keep moving," he urged. She tried to stand, but her legs gave out. He scooped her up in a piggyback hold. He knew their pursuers weren't that far away, but he didn't say anything.

He didn't want to worry her.

He began a quick jog through the trees, all the while wondering how he could care for the girl and contact the _Enterprise_. Suddenly, he stumbled, his foot caught on something that had been buried in the snow.

He stabilized himself and glanced down.

He had tripped over the body of a young boy. He had frozen to death, curled up beside a young girl. It looked like they had been trying to conserve warmth.

Jim fought down the bile in his throat and told Emmy not to look down.

He kept walking.

----------------

"Are you sure that you cannot raise the captain?" Spock asked Uhura again. She let out a frustrated sigh.

"Yes, Commander, I'm _sure_. I've only been trying for the past hour!"

"There is no need to raise your voice," Spock chided. He leaned down to stare at his instruments, trying to hide his concern from the rest of the crew. Jim, his t'hy'la, had been down on the possibly hostile planet for far too long with only one security team to help him.

It certainly wouldn't be enough, if history was accurate.

"Keep trying, Lieutenant. I will accept nothing but success."

She nodded, turning back to her station. Her hands flew around her console, and she let out a frustrated sigh, but didn't turn around again.

Spock sat disconsolately in the command chair.

----------------

"So, who's your favorite on the ship?" Emmy asked as they walked deeper into the forest. The snow was falling thickly, and for a while at least, Jim didn't worry about being followed. The snow covered their tracks just as easily as the bodies.

"My favorite?" He chuckled. "I don't have a favorite. I'm a captain; I like all of my crewmen equally." Jim wasn't _allowed_ to have a favorite.

"Uh-huh," she said conspiratorially. "You have a favorite. It's okay to tell me, I won't say anything."

He glanced over his shoulder at her and grinned, glad that she had a lighter heart. His mind had closed off the part that was screaming, and now he was relatively normal-feeling again. He didn't know what else he could bear, though.

"All right," he capitulated. "You're right. I _do_ have a favorite. But you have to promise not to tell _anyone_." He sent her a sly grin.

"I promise," she said solemnly. Jim closed his eyes for a second, remembering his ship.

"Okay. My favorite person on my ship is my first officer, Spock." He shifted her on his back to a more comfortable position for both of them.

"What kind of name is _Spock?_" the girl asked, wrinkling her nose in amused confusion.

"He's a Vulcan," Jim answered, glad to talk about his t'hy'la. The memories of the times they'd spent together blocked out all of them memories of…_then_.

"Wow! Really? A Vulcan? I've never seen a Vulcan before," she said excitedly.

"Well, when we get back onto the ship, I promise that you can meet him," Jim said with a smile. He shifted her again, trying to reach his communicator.

"Do you want me to get down?" Emmy asked. "I can walk now, it's okay." She moved to get down, but Jim held her tight.

"No, I can carry you. I don't mind." He hated to think of her walking through all this snow in just the flimsy slippers she wore. And besides, even this far out in the woods, there were still bodies under the snow. Jim had learned to recognize what drifts might have bodies under them, but if _she_ stepped in one…

Jim shivered.

"Are you cold? Here, you should take you're coat back," Emmy said, trying to maneuver the coat off her shoulders. Jim shook his head.

"I lived through it once, I can live through it again," he said, more to himself than to her.

--

"_I'm cold, Jimmy," the youngest boy said quietly. None of them liked to complain, for fear that Jim would leave them. If Johnny was saying it now, then he must really be freezing._

_The long-sleeved shirt Jim wore was shrugged off and handed to the boy._

"_But, won't you get cold?" Johnny asked, looking wide-eyed between Jim and the shirt in his hand._

"_Nah," Jim said with a fake smile, pulling his arms closer to his body._

_--_

"When?" she asked quietly. "Did something like this happen to you?" The pain and sympathy in her voice was audible.

"You ever been to Delta Vega?" he asked.

"No," she said. "I lived here all my life."

"It happened there," he lied. "I was marooned."

"By who?"

"By my first officer, Spock. I deserved it, though. And when you see him, don't say anything about it. He did the right thing. I was way out of line."

He could almost hear her eyes widen in shock.

"But…but you're the _captain!_ Isn't that not allowed?" Her hands were clasped tightly on his shoulders.

"Heh. I wasn't the captain back then. When it happened, _he_ was the captain, and _I_ was the first officer."

"…Huh?" she asked.

He laughed and shook his head. "It's complicated. Don't worry about it." He swung her around to stand on an out-cropping rock for a minute until he could pull out his communicator.

"Kirk to Enterprise," he said. There was a brief crackle of static, and then a sound that was much more menacing.

The whine of a laser rifle being leveled at someone's head.

---------------

Bones stepped onto the bridge, his face grim.

"He's dead, Spock. I did everything I could, but in the end, his injuries were simply too severe."

Spock nodded in sad understanding.

"I am sure you did your best, Doctor. What was the cause?"

"Well, as you know, that man was the last thing we were able to beam up from the God-forsaken planet in the scramble caused by the ion storm. He had severe burns to his back and neck."

Spock nodded. "_And_, Doctor? I am sure you have a point."

"Dammit Spock, I'm getting to it!" Bones snapped. "The man was killed by a laser rifle shot. It looks fresh, and it seemed that he managed to get out of the direct path of the shot. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem like he got far enough away."

"I see," Spock said distractedly. "Then we must assume that the Captain is in danger. There are two, possibly more, armed assailants on that planet. The captain has his phaser. We may be forced to assume he is injured."

Everyone on the bridge could pick out the tension in his calm monotone.

"Lieutenant, have you made contact with Jim?"

"No, sir. But I have discovered why we can't get through," she added hastily. "It's a very subtle jamming signal, being broadcasted from the city hall in the capital."

Spock nodded once in appreciation and hit the comm button. "Bridge to Engineering. Mr. Scott?"

"Here, laddie," the Scotsman replied, the worry for Kirk in his tone growing. "Have ye found the Captain yet?"

"No." Spock took a deep breath. "Are the phaser banks back online?"

"Aye, sir. But what about the Captain? What if we hit him? Sensors aren't working yet—"

"I am well aware of that, Engineer. Do we have transport capability?" Spock's impatience was clear, now.

"Well…_no._ But we will in a few moments."

Spock hit the button again.

"Mr. Sulu, please arrange for us to make an orbit that will put us in range of the city hall."

"Aye, sir."

"Mr. Chekov, prepare a phaser burst on high setting at these coordinates," the Vulcan said, relaying the coordinates to the tactical officer.

"Yes, sir. But, vhat if zere are people inside? Vhat if ve hit zem?"

"Now."

Chekov did as instructed.

Bones pulled Spock slightly away from the rest of the crew. "Look, there was something else I wanted to ask you about." He lowered his voice even more, knowing that Spock would still be able to hear him. "The burns are from an execution-style shot. I've only seen that _particular_ style one other place—in a medical journal I was reading at the Academy."

"Once again, Doctor, I must ask you to hurry to your point. 'Time is wasting,' as they say." The Vulcan began to pull away impatiently, but McCoy grabbed his arm and held him fast.

"What I'm _saying_, Spock is—" He glanced around then back at Spock. "Well, it's just that—"

"_Yes_, Doctor?"

Bones sighed.

"What do you know about Tarsus IV?"

---------------

Jim's shoulders stiffened. He could feel the memory of a different rifle against the back of his neck, nothing but a ghost.

--

"_Jiiiimmyyyy…"_

_--_

"Stay where you are, or I'll shoot the girl," a young voice warned behind him. Jim slowly raised his arms so they could see his hands.

"I'm going to turn around, okay?" he said, trying to do his best impersonation of Spock's cool voice. "I'll do it slowly. I promise."

When no negative opinion was voiced, Jim slowly began to pivot on his heel, turning to face the boy behind him. He still had his communicator in his hand. He wasn't sure it worked, though, so they were probably dead, anyway.

--

"_Jimmy, I know you're in there. Come out, come out wherever you are!"_

_--_

The boy was about as old as Jim's pursuers had been. His face was lean, starved. He had the same hungry predator look that sent chills down Jim's spine. The only difference was they didn't have any identifying marks, except the parkas.

But on a world like this, that was enough.

"My name is Captain Kirk," he told the boy. "See this shirt? It means I'm a Starfleet captain. I'm here to help you."

The boy didn't lower the rifle aimed at Emmy.

"Uh-huh," the boy said, unconvinced. "Right. Drop the thing," he said, gesturing at the communicator. Jim raised his hands a little higher to show he had nothing else and dropped the communicator into the snow.

"Okay?" Jim asked soothingly. "We won't put up a fight."

Emmy glanced fearfully over at Jim as the boy began to laugh.

"Fight? What kind of fight could you put up? I'm not taking you anywhere. I'm going to kill you and bring her body back for my reward," the boy said.

"Reward?" Jim asked, trying not to look over at Emmy's tear-stained face. "What'll they give you for the dead body of a _little girl?"_

"Food," the boy answered, looking as if he was imagining it. Kirk knew he probably was. "They'll give me food. They promised."

"Food," Jim said softly, unbelievingly. Emmy had told him this before, but he was still unconvinced. "There isn't any food _left_. None. It's all gone. And there won't be any _more_ until you let Starfleet help you, dead girl or not."

"You're lying!" the boy spat, gesturing violently with the rifle for emphasis. Emmy squeaked in terror.

"How do you know?" Jim prompted, trying not to provoke the child.

"Because he _promised_ me that there would be food! He promised!"

--

"_It's okay, Jimmy," they told him as the rifle was shoved into his hands. "Once you're done, you can have something to eat. The governor promises."_

_--_

"He lied."

The statement hung heavily in the air as the boy just stared at him.

"Why should I believe you?" he asked, but Jim could already see the doubt entering his mind.

"Because I've been here before," Jim answered quietly. "There wasn't any food left then, either. Even though he promised."

The boy started to lower the rifle, just a small, small amount, incomprehension sneaking into his eyes.

"Why—why would he—" the boy began, but he was interrupted.

By a bright beam of light, streaking toward the city.

And Jim saw it, before it happened. He knew what would happen. The boy's finger tightened in surprise on the trigger of the rifle, and a bolt of energy shpt out of the gun. He had not lowered it enough, and it hit—

Jim.

Emmy landed on her back with Jim on top of her, protecting her. He flashed her a pained grin as she stared up at him with huge, shocked eyes. Jim couldn't feel his back, but he figured it was probably best. The red smears around his palms were berries that had been buried beneath the snow, he told himself. And the red stains running down the arms of his uniform were…berry juice? Maybe he'd run into a bush or something. Never mind that there were no bushes. Hadn't been for a long time.

It had to be berries. Spock wouldn't forgive him if it was anything else.

And besides, Emmy would worry if it was blood.

"Hey, you all right, kid?" he asked, looking down at her and trying not to even glance at the spreading darkness around his hands.

"I—I," the boy behind him stuttered as he dropped the rifle into the snow. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

"It's all right, okay? Shhhh…" Jim whispered. "It's okay. No harm done. Everyone's okay. Everyone's fine. It'll be okay, Edith."

But for some reason he couldn't get up.

* * *

Ohhh, suspense! Don't worry, the next chapter will be up tomorrow or so. Please stay tuned for part 2!

**EXTRA SPECIAL ANNOUNCENMENT!**

In case you missed it up there (since I know sometimes _I_ don't read Author's notes befoe the story), DapperDestruction wrote my smut scene for Pon Farr! It's called 'Pon Farr in a Pink Sweater' and can be found here: .net/s/5538268/1/Pon_Farr_in_a_Pink_Sweater

* * *

**REVIEW REPLIES:**

**Jenn - **Thanks so much! I'm glad you like them.

**LostSchizophrenic -** Thanks, dear! And yes, I blew up the Enterprise (D:), but these little ficlets don't go in sequential order, so everything's fine right now. :) I can't wait until Awkward!Sarek comes, but I fear i may not write it until after Christmas, since unfortunately for me, the release of the STXI DVD fell under the veil of now-it's-Christmas-shopping-time-so-you-can't-buy-ANYTHING. It's annoying as hell. I want my deleted scenes! DX

**TheOneTheyCallEcho - **Captain Douche? That's a good name for it. And you know Spock's staying next time. :)))

* * *

Thank you to all you lovely reviewers, and thanks so much for hanging with me! (And another big, BIG thanks to DapperDestruction. You're awesome!)

Please review!

Live long and prosper.

Tube


	19. 5: Of Crimson Snow 2 of 2

Here is part 2! This is a show of how much I love you guys since I _really_ should be working on my sister's present right now, but I'm not. So, please, enjoy!

* * *

**Of Crimson Snow and Broken Hearts, part 2 of 2**

**for Dana Katherine**

**------**

"The jammer's down, Mr. Spock!" Uhura reported triumphantly from her station. "I'm trying to get a fix on the captain's communicator as we speak!"

"Have you found it?" Spock demanded as soon as she'd spoken. He could feel it; something was wrong with his t'hy'la. He just hoped that when they got him to the ship, it wouldn't be too late.

"Doctor McCoy, please bring yourself and a medical team down to the transporter room. I shall be there momentarily."

"I've got it!" Uhura announced. "Captain? Captain, can you hear me?"

-------------

"_Captain? This is the _Enterprise._ Can you hear me? Repeat, _can you hear me?_"_

Emmy glanced up at Jim. She was still lying in the snow beneath him, and she wondered if it was okay to get up now. The boy was long gone. She heard the voice, but didn't know where it was coming from. It said _Enterprise_, like Jim had called his ship.

She tugged on his sleeve.

"Captain? I think your ship's calling for you. Are we going home now?"

"_This is the _Enterprise_ calling Captain Kirk. Sir, can you hear me?"_

Emmy tugged again, but Jim didn't move. He was supporting himself on his elbows with his eyes shut. His breathing was ragged.

"Captain? Can I go get it?"

Jim didn't answer then, either.

------------

"Mr. Spock, he's not answering. Could he have dropped his communicator while on the planet?" Uhura asked worriedly.

"Possible, but not probable. The captain would have been waiting for our signal. He must have found trouble."

"Shall ve do a transporter sveep around ze communicator's coordinates?" Chekov asked.

Spock nodded.

That would be the wisest course of action, Mr. Chekov. Please prepare to do the sweep. Lieutenant, please keep trying to establish contact with the captain."

Spock's hands were clenched so tightly on the back of the command chair that his knuckles had turned white.

Uhura nodded.

"Captain Kirk, please respond. This is the _Enterprise_…"

-------------

"I'm going to get it, okay?" Emmy said, patting Jim's elbow. "You just sleep. I'll be right back."

She shimmied her way out from under Jim's torso and pulled herself to her feet. Stumbling slightly and trying not to look at Jim's back, Emmy walked toward Jim's fallen communicator.

She picked it up.

"_Captain Kirk, this is the _Enterprise. Please _respond. This is the _Enterprise…_"_

Emmy turned the small device over in her hands, trying to figure out how it worked. How did she answer it? If she could answer it, then the woman on the other side might be able to help the nice captain.

"_This is the _Enterprise_. Captain Kirk, please respond…_"

Emmy flipped the communicator open.

----------------

"This is the _Enterprise_. Captain, please respond. Can you hear me?" Shaking her head sadly, Uhura turned to tell Spock that no matter what they did, they wouldn't get an answer. The captain simply _wasn't_ able to respond.

"Commander, it's useless," she began.

Spock closed his eyes.

Silence fell across the bridge as it sunk in just what that might mean. The captain wasn't responding. That meant that he was most likely dead. _Dead_. It couldn't be. Not _their_ captain…

"_Hello?"_

Every head whipped toward the communications station as Uhura let out a surprised gasp and spun around to her board.

"What?" Spock demanded. "What is it?"

"Hello?" Uhura asked. "Who is this?"

------------

"This is Emmy," the little girl replied, staring in wonder at the box in her hand. How did it _do_ that?

"_Emmy, honey,_ _where did you get this communicator?"_ the woman asked.

Emmy glanced back at Jim.

-------------

"Put it on speakers," Spock commanded, and in a second the entire bridge heard the ring of a small girl's voice over the ship's speakers.

"_I got it from Captain Jim,_" the girl answered. _"Are you nice people? Will you help him?"_

"Yes, _yes_, we'll help him," Uhura said, shutting her eyes with relief. The captain might be all right—

"_Please help him fast,_" Emmy whispered. "_Please. He's hurting."_

"Bridge to Engineering. Tell me we have transporter capabilities," Spock said. He was beginning to sound…_desperate._

"Not yet, sir. We need at least five more minutes," an ensign's voice said back to him.

"Where is Mr. Scott?"

"Working, sir. On the transporters."

"Understood." Spock pressed the comm button harder then was necessary, but no one blamed him.

"Honey, can you go stand next to the captain?" Uhura asked.

"_Sure,_" Emmy replied. "_Are you going to help him?_"

"Yes, yes we are. Can you tell me what's wrong with him?" Uhura wasn't really sure she wanted to know, but she knew Spock did.

"_He got shot,"_ Emmy said sadly. _"He saved me. But now…now he's not moving. Just like Mom and Dad and Danny."_

Spock sucked in a sharp breath.

"Emmy, this is first officer Spock," the Vulcan said, striding over to Uhura's console. "Is the captain still breathing?"

-------------

"Spock?" Emmy asked as she bent down to put her hand in front of Jim's mouth. "You're his Vulcan! He talks about you a lot." She stood up straight again and patted Jim's head fondly. "He's still breathing. Is there anything else I can do?"

"_Is he bleeding?_" Spock asked matter-of-factly, but there was a slight waver in his voice.

"Yes. A lot." Fear had crept back into her voice as she noticed just _how much blood_ Jim had lost. "What do I do?"

"_Do you have anything you can put over the wound? I need you to fold it into a pad, put it on the wound, and press on it, okay?"_

"I—I have a coat." She pulled it off and followed Spock's instructions, leaning her weight onto the pad the Starfleet-issue coat had made. "This will help?"

"_Yes,_" Spock replied. _"It might mean everything._"

--------------

"Doctor," Spock said, pressing the comm link to the transporter room. "The captain is severely injured. Are you standing by?"

"Yeah, Spock, we're here. And we're ready for whatever that thoughtless bastard can throw at us."

Maybe Spock was imagining it, but Doctor McCoy's voice had wavered.

"Mr. Scott, are the transporters working yet? It is of great importance that they—"

"Aye, _aye_, I _understand_, Mr. Spock. They're as ready as they'll ever be." The Chief Engineer pulled himself out from under the control board. "We're ready to lock onto the captain's signal."

"Do so now."

---------------

Emmy almost jumped when the light started, but the lady on the other end of the line had told her there would be a light and a slightly odd feeling, so she wasn't worried. Well, not about _herself_, anyway. She glanced down at Jim just as the transporter beam swallowed them up.

The room she appeared in was automatically in chaos. People rushed forward to separate her and Jim, shouting orders at each other that ended in 'stat.' Two men bent down and picked up Jim while another scooped her up and began rushing them down the corridor; Jim on a gurney and she in the arms of the crewman.

"Where's Spock?" she asked him as the man jogged toward another room at the end of the hallway; one that smelled clean and sterile. It was scent that stung her nose. She knew she'd always remember it, probably as well as the smell of blood.

"The first officer is coming," the man said distractedly, setting her down on a bed. "He'll be here."

"Good," Emmy said quietly. "'Cause Jim misses him."

The man glanced down at her in confusion before his attention was drawn to the opening doors of sickbay.

"What is the captain's condition, Doctor?" the pale man demanded. His eyes were worriedly fixed on the still figure on the medical cot.

"Well, if you'd let me _work_ for a Goddamn minute I _might_ be able to _tell_ you!" the doctor snapped back. "Let me do my job, Spock."

The Vulcan stopped his approach to the medical table and closed his eyes, collecting himself. He set his shoulders determinedly as he opened his eyes again and crossed his arms behind him.

Emmy hopped down off her cot.

"Are you Spock?" she asked, tugging on his sleeve. He flinched slightly away and turned to look down at her.

"I am Spock," he answered. "Are you Emmy?"

"Yup." She tugged on his sleeve again and beckoned for him to lean down so she could whisper something to him.

He did so, confusedly.

"You better take good care of him, okay? He _saved_ me, but I can't help him. He's scared. And lonely. So be nice, okay?" She smiled at him through the dirt and the grime and the blood, her innocence seeming to wipe away the pains with its simplicity. "He really likes you a lot."

She let him go and walked back to her cot, leaving him with his thoughts.

-----------------

She was okay, really. If she didn't think about her parents, or her brother, or any of her friends, neighbors, or townsfolk it was easy for her to sleep. But she kept imagining her mother's smile, her father's laugh, the way her brother would hold her hand as they walked—

But she would be okay. She told herself that over and over again as the nice lady—Uhura—tucked her into bed that night.

"It's been a long day, sweetheart. Try to get some sleep, okay?" Uhura smoothed Emmy's hair back from her now-clean face and pulled the covers up to her chin. It had been so long since Emmy had slept in a bed that she had almost forgotten what it felt like.

"Is Captain Jim going to be okay?" she asked quietly, hoping that he would be. No one told her anything.

"He's going to be just fine," Uhura replied. Emmy knew that didn't mean anything. That was what everyone said, and it was hardly ever true.

"Goodnight," she told Uhura, and the woman smiled a sad, caring smile.

"Goodnight, honey," she whispered. The lights clicked off softly and the door shut. Emmy turned onto her side and shut her eyes tightly.

"Goodnight Mum, goodnight Dad, goodnight Danny," she sniffed, fighting back the tears.

It wasn't long until she fell asleep.

---------------

Spock sat quietly next to Jim's bed; so still that Bones missed him when he first walked into sickbay. The lights were lowered, presenting the front of night.

"Christ, Spock," Bones muttered, starting a little as he noticed the Vulcan in the chair.

"Doctor," the first officer acknowledged. "Will he recover?" Spock's hand tightened around Jim's limp fingers as he studied the doctor's face.

"He will, Spock." Bones saw Spock's face crumple only slightly with relief. "Physically, at least," he amended, and the Vulcan's eyes shot up from where they'd fallen on Jim's sleeping face.

"What do you mean, Doctor? Explain."

Bones sighed heavily and collapsed into a chair on the other side of Jim's bed. "This is going to be traumatic, Spock. If Jim _was_ on Tarsus IV, which I think he was—"

"Why would you believe that the captain was on Tarsus IV?" Spock interrupted. Bones shot him a look that said, "I'd tell you if you'd stop _interrupting _me," and Spock fell quiet again.

"I—" Bones rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, "I looked into it."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"Spock, will you stop that?! I had my reasons, okay? I found a list of survivors while I was researching the burn pattern." Bones inhaled slowly. "And Jim was one of them."

"I see," Spock said, tightening his grip on Jim's hand slightly. "Jim…"

"My point, Spock, is that you're going to need to be there for him. I know that emotional comforting isn't your strong point, but try at least, will you?"

"You insult me, Doctor. I will be there for my t'hy'la, when he needs me."

Bones nodded. "I know, Spock. I know. But don't press, okay? He'll talk when he wants to."

"I am aware of that, Doctor." Spock shifted slightly and brushed Jim's hair off his forehead. "He always does."

They sat in silence for a long time after that.

------------

Jim didn't know what time it was when he opened his eyes, but it must have been day from the brightness of the sickbay lights.

…Sickbay?

He groaned and tried to sit up, only to be stopped by a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder.

"Spock," he mumbled, "how's Emmy?" He leaned his head into Spock's touch as the Vulcan placed a hand on his face.

"She is well, t'hy'la. But she is worried about you." _We all were._ Unsaid, but hanging there, tangible.

"Yeah, I know. I'm all right now, though. See?" And Jim tried to sit up again. This time he was stopped by an outraged shout of, "Lay down, you _moron_!" from Bones as the doctor came striding out of his office.

"Hey, Bones. How are you?" Jim asked with a tired grin.

"_I'm _fine. But I didn't spend all that time patching you up just so you could die of _stupidity!_ My God, man." He stepped closer and held up a hypo menacingly.

Jim lay back down.

"So, when can I be back on duty?" Jim asked at length. "Today? Tomorrow? When?"

Bones snorted.

"Today? Tomorrow? What are you, suicidal? You can leave sickbay today, sure, but you won't be back on duty for another week."

Jim opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by a meaningful glance from Spock.

"Captain, you were foolhardy and reckless. I will not permit you to do any more damage to yourself. I will enforce the doctor's orders and confine you to quarters, if need be."

Jim chuckled.

"So forceful," he sighed, and smirked up at his t'hy'la. "Fine, okay? I'll just hang out in my quarters. But don't ban me from the bridge, okay?"

Bones looked about to cut in, but Jim held up a hand.

"I won't work, unless it's paperwork. But banning me from the bridge for a whole week would be like cutting off all of my limbs, Bones. I promise I won't get into trouble."

Eventually, the doctor agreed to let Jim wander around the ship, _only if he was careful_. And he had to have someone with him at all times. Bones was very firm about that.

Jim gave in easily enough, desperate to be out of sickbay.

As Spock helped him toward the door, Jim was surprised to see it reveal a small girl when it whooshed open.

"Hey, girl!" he said with a smile. "How do you like the ship?"

"It's so _cool!" _Emmy exclaimed. Jim grinned. That's how he'd felt, too. That was how he _still_ felt. The young girl gazed up at him calculatingly. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, ship-shape." He ruffled her hair. "How about you?"

She giggled and ducked away from his hand. Spock watched curiously from beside his captain.

"I'm great," she said sadly. "Everything's going to be okay now." She smiled hopefully up at him. "Right?"

Jim felt his throat closing.

--

"_Everything will be okay, right Jimmy?"_

_--_

"Yeah," he choked out, resisting the urge to bring a hand up to scrub at his stinging eyes. "Everything will be just fine."

Spock placed a gentle hand on Jim's back and rubbed once, for comfort. Jim sent him the ghost of a grin before plastering a smile back on his face for Emmy.

"You want a tour, kid?"

----------------

Jim escaped up to the observation deck after leaving Emmy with Uhura. It had taken _hours_ to tour the entire ship, and he'd even left out a few parts. Right now, he just wanted to be alone. To think. He'd even dodged his escort, even after giving Bones his _word_.

He almost groaned when he heard the door open.

"Jim?" Spock's voice was quiet, obviously sensitive to the atmosphere of the room.

Jim let out all of his breath in an explosive sigh, feeling some of his overwhelming tension leave with the air. Spock shifted closer to the door.

"If you would like me to leave—"

"No, no," Jim said flashing his t'hy'la a tired grin. He'd been wrong when he'd decided to be alone. He wanted to be alone with _Spock_. "Please," he said, and gestured at the railing beside him.

Spock folded his arms neatly behind his back and stepped up to the railing to watch the stars with Jim.

They were silent for a very long time.

Finally, Jim let out a weary breath and sagged against the rail. Spock was immediately ready to help, but Jim waved him off.

"I'm fine, it's just…I—I couldn't help anyone."

And Spock understood that now was the time to listen. Jim didn't need reassurances, or if he did, there would be time for that later. Instead, Spock just took his t'hy'la's elbow and led him gently to one of the lounges so Jim could sit down.

"Spock, what do you know about Tarsus IV?"

Spock hesitated for only a second before promptly relaying all he knew about it. Including the survivors.

Jim let out a humorless laugh.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you know about that. Even if it _is_ classified."

Spock said nothing.

"Tarsus IV. It was…hell. There's no other way to described it. It was hell and the man who was responsible was devil himself. Kodos the Executioner. A fitting name."

Jim let out a wry chuckle and buried his face in his hands.

"Spock, if I start talking now, I won't stop until I'm finished. Are you sure you really want to hear me whine for hours?"

Spock just sat next to his t'hy'la and placed a hand on his shoulder. Jim leaned into the touch.

"I am here, t'hy'la. Say what you will."

"All right." And so, Jim began. He told Spock everything.

--

_"Welcome, everyone! Welcome to Tarsus IV! I hope your stay here will be an enjoyable one!" the governor's voice boomed out over the shuttle bay as the excited young man stepped off his shuttle. Though only fourteen, he knew this was going to be a great opportunity. His first time off-world, and he was set to enjoy it. Tarsus IV. He was sure it was going to be an adventure he would never want to forget._

--

He told him about the lasers, the fear, the snow, and the children.

God, the children.

He told Spock about Johnny-

--

_"Jimmy, I'm cold. When can we go home?"_

_--_

-and Davy-

--

_"They're not going to find us, right Jimmy?"_

_--_

-and Marcus.

--

_"I'm scared."_

_--_

He told him about Jenny-

--

_"Where is everyone? What happened? Why are they all so quiet?"_

_--_

-and Amanda.

--

_"I'm hungry, Jimmy. Is there any food?"_

_--_

And most of all, he told him about Edith.

--

_"Everything will be okay, right Jimmy? I trust you. No matter what."_

--

"I promised them that I'd get them out of there. I promised them that it would be okay. Spock, I failed them. I failed Edith the worst, though." He took a shuddering breath and leaned against Spock. "She got shot. Died, instantly. She was _six_, Spock. _Six._ And I couldn't save her. I couldn't even—"

Spock pulled his love closer as the tears began. Very, very quietly, Jim wept for all of the people killed then and now. All of the people he felt he should have been able to save.

After a few moments, Jim pulled away and wiped his eyes. "God, I'm a pansy. Useless. Fuck it, how can you look at me?"

It only took a few seconds, but Jim found himself flat on his back on the floor trapped below a very composed, very quietly _pissed_ Vulcan.

But Spock had thrown him gently, so his wounds were okay.

"You will listen to me, Jim. I have no intention of listening to you speak of yourself in such a manner. You are a very capable leader. You're crewmen respect you, as does most of the _world_. I will not allow you to degrade yourself."

He took a breath as Jim blinked up at him in surprise.

"I love you, t'hy'la. For who you are. A wonderful, caring, pigheaded, stubborn individual who is reckless and less than intelligent most times, but right more often than I would care to admit. There is no one more fit to captain this ship."

He shifted himself off of Jim and helped him up, adjusting their uniforms so they fell in straight, crisp lines once more.

"Every man here trusts you with their life, including myself. We do not doubt you, so do not doubt yourself."

And with that, Spock folded is arms behind him neatly and turned to the door. He stopped when he reached the frame, wondering why Jim wasn't following. The captain was staring at him with a slightly bewildered look on his face.

"Jim?"

"Huh? Yeah?" The captain shook himself out of his daze and focused on the Vulcan.

Spock raised his eyebrow.

"Shall we retire to bed?"

"I, uh…yeah. Yeah, let's."

Spock nodded, and Jim felt a weight begin to lift off his chest as he jogged to catch up with the already leaving Vulcan.

--

"_Everything will be okay, right Jimmy?"_

_--_

Maybe, maybe it would be.

* * *

Yeah, I know, crappy, sappy ending. But I wanted to finish it for you guys, so you wouldn't think I'd died. ;) I don't no when the next one will be up, but it may not be for a while. :(

* * *

**REVIEWS!**

**desdemona - **The first (and only mention that I've seen) of Tarsus IV in TOS was in the episode 'The Conscience of the King' in season 1. Thanks so much! I'm glad you like both parts equally. :)

* * *

So, this is all, my loyal reviews. At least, for the time being. I hope to see you all soon!

Dif-tor heh smusma. ;)


	20. To Russia, With Love 1 of ?

Hello! Merry Christmas, everyone. I know, posted on Christmas Day, but it wasn't ready yesterday. ...It's still not done. :D But here's part 1, anyway.

Oh, and sorry for any/all spelling and grammar mistakes. My spell check crapped out halfway through writing, and I haven't been able to figure out why. :\

* * *

**To Russia, With Love - Part 1**

**for beautiful dreamere and kitchan**

**----------**

"I ees telling you! Vill be fun!" Chekov declared again as he and Sulu walked down the corridor. "Russia ees _best_ place for vinter. Vill be fun."

"I don't know, Pavel…" Sulu said evasively. He wasn't that thrilled about the thought of all that snow. And besides, who would take care of his plants?

"I already arranged whole zhing," Chekov continued, either unaware of or ignoring Sulu's misgivings. "Set up place for plants to be taken care of, Hikaru."

"Where?" The young Asian didn't like just _anyone_ taking care of his plants.

"Biology major at Academy has already said yes," the Russian confided. "Besides, please? Eet ees almost my birthday, Hikaru. Vill mean wery much to me if you come, too."

Hikaru sighed, but ended up smiling as he glanced over at Chekov's puppy-dog eyes. "Fine, okay? I'll come! But only because it's your birthday."

Chekov whooped. "Yes! I vill see you at terminal, da?"

Sulu nodded, and the Russian jogged off to get his things from his room.

"What have you gotten yourself into, Hikaru?" he asked himself in quiet amusement. "This is going to be one hell of a shore leave. He's lucky that his birthday is soon, otherwise I never would have—"

Sulu stopped walking.

Suddenly, he was doubled up in laughter, the sound of it bouncing off the metal walls of the ship and coming back to him, making it seem as if the whole ship were laughing as well.

People in the hallway were staring at him.

"That little—I can't believe it! He manipulated me! He downright, underhandedly manipulated me!" He pulled himself up straight and rubbed the tears out of his eyes. "I can't believe it," he said again, breathless from the hilarity.

Grinning, he took off at a jog toward Chekov's room.

"Pavel! Pavel you dirty cheat! You're birthday's not until _September!_"

---------

"And _zen_ ve vill eat sochivo, and I am _promising_ you, eet vill be delicious. _And zen_—"

Sulu chuckled quietly to himself as he listened to Chekov prattle on happily about all the things they would be doing over the break in Russia as they walked through the shuttle bay. It seemed that his new friend had a lot of younger cousins that Sulu would get to meet as well.

He just hoped he had the energy for it.

"Hey, Pavel?" he interrupted, stopping the young Russian mid-description of the story of Babushka. "Does your family celebrate on the 25th? I've heard that sometimes Russian Christmas is celebrated on January 7th."

"Vhat? Oh, da. Ve celebrate on 25th. Vhy?"

"Well…just curious. That's all." Sulu sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

"Zat ees _not_ all. Tell me, Hikaru." Then Chekov gasped. "Oh no! I forgot! You do not celebrate Christmas, do you?"

"Personally, I don't," Hikaru agreed. "However, my family does celebrate New Year's, starting on the 31st. I was actually just wondering if I could leave then and not be rude."

"Oh," said the young Russian. "Da. You could leave zen." But the boy sounded…a little sad.

"Hey, Pavel," Sulu began. "I know you may want to spend New Year's with _your_ family, but…" He cleared his throat. "Well, the invitation's open. Just in case."

Sulu had never seen anyone's eyes light up so fast.

-----------

They loaded their bags into the shuttle and climbed in, cheerfully discussing this and that. Sulu tried not to be too worried about the impending visit. He didn't want to offend anyone, not knowing the traditions.

Chekov seemed to notice this when the young Japanese man's smile slipped.

"You are not vorried, are you? You do not have to be. My parents are wery nice people. Zey vill like you."

"You sound like your bringing me home as a date to introduce," Sulu chuckled. After a minute, Chekov began to laugh, too.

But the atmosphere was somehow different in a way that neither of them could put their finger on.

-----------

"Ah!" came the happy exclamation that woke Sulu from his brief doze against the window of the shuttle. "Zere! Ve are here!"

"Wha..?" was Hikaru's intelligent reply.

"Ve are here! Quick get your zhings!" Chekov trilled while wrapping a scarf around his neck. One glance outside at all the snow made Sulu want to close his eyes and go back to sleep.

"…Right." But he got up anyway and shouldered his bag.

"Ready?"

Before he could answer, Chekov had opened the door and let in the freezing air.

Well, if he hadn't been ready, he certainly was now.

"Ah, home. I have missed you vile I have been avay. You do not seem to have changed much. Zis ees good."

Sulu smiled at Chekov's back while the Russian wandered around examining the Russian shuttle bay. Though it had been a long time since he had been back to his parents' house in Japan (they had moved there from San Francisco when he joined Starfleet), he was sure he would react quite the same way.

"But ve must go now," Chekov said, and it took a Sulu a minute to realize that the boy was now talking to him. "Or ve vill be late. Come now, Hikaru, do not dawdle."

Chekov's cheeky grin made Sulu snort incredulously, but he jogged to catch up as the Russian led the way down the street.

-------------

The house in front of them looked welcoming and warm, and Sulu sighed in relief as they mounted the front steps. Pavel knocked once, and then the door swung open to reveal a very loud, very festively dressed woman with a huge smile on her face.

"Pavel! I am so glad to see you!"

Sulu watched in amazement as his friend was swallowed in one of the tightest hugs he had ever seen. Chekov was laughing loudly and hugging back.

"Hikaru," the boy said when he could breath again, "this is my mother, Lucresa Chekov. Mama, this is my friend Hikaru Sulu."

It took only seconds, but Hikaru soon found his hand captured in a very firm handshake. Not knowing what to do, he returned it.

"Velcome, velcome! Ve are very pleased to have you. Vhen Pavel said he vas bringing home a friend, vell…" She gave him a cheeky smile and released him. "Ve did not expect you to be so cute."

When he glanced over, Sulu found that Chekov was blushing.

"I am sorry," the Russian said as he and Sulu were ushered in. "She ees not usually like zis."

Sulu shot him a smile as he toed off his shoes inside the door.

"Zat ees nonsense!" exploded a loud voice to their left. "She ees alvays like zis!"

"Deda!" Pavel exclaimed excitedly and jogged over to an elderly man in a rocking chair.

"I see zis ees your friend from work," said the man. "Help me up, Pavel." The young man did so, and soon the elder was on his way over to Sulu. Sulu honestly did not know what to expect.

"Zis ees my deda," Chekov said happily. "Deda, zis is Hikaru Sulu. He ees ze pilot of ze _Enterprise_."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Hikaru said, and held out his hand. Approvingly, Pavel's grandfather took it and gave it the same treatment Pavel's mother had.

This process was repeated with Chekov's father, Andrei, as well.

"S Rozhdestvom!" the navigator called into the kitchen, where he received a chorus of the greeting back. Sulu watched in amazement as all five of Pavel's cousins came streaming out of the kitchen to bury his friend in a dogpile.

"Zese are my cousins," Chekov said. "Grigoriy, Dasha, Ruslan, Sergei, and Faina."

The one Pavel had identified as Ruslan, stood up and examined Sulu carefully. He looked to be about 7, and the eldest of all the cousins.

"Pavel," said the boy after a minute, "vhy did you not tell us you vere bringing your boyfriend?"

Silence fell.

Pavel's eyes widened comically before he shoved all of his cousins off of him and stood up, straightening his clothes with a hurried, frazzled air.

"Net!" The denial rang out sharply in the silent house. "Net. Hikaru ees just my friend. He ees not my boyfriend."

"Zen vhy is your face all re—" A hand clapped over the boy's mouth as a young looking woman stepped out of the door. She must have been at least thirty five, though, Hikaru mused distractedly, because she was the mother of some of these kids. She was Pavel's aunt.

"Leave him alone," she said firmly. "Ve vill not be rude, remember? Come now, back into ze kitchen vith you."

For a moment none of the children moved.

"_All_ of you. _Now._" The children sprang into motion, all retreating back into the kitchen with backward glances at the two friends.

"I am sorry about zat," the woman began, but Sulu held up a hand.

"It's no problem, really." He smiled kindly, and just like that, the tension in the air seemed to diffuse.

No one noticed Chekov's sigh of relief.

-----------

Once introductions were finished and Hikaru had presented his gift to Pavel's father, it was time for dinner. This was the first hurdle that Hikaru had to pass, and he was worried.

From what he had heard from Pavel, Russian ettiquette was rather involved. He just hoped they'd forgive him if he made a mistake.

He was seated between Pavel and Pavel's aunt Sasha. Recalling at least _some_ of what his friend had told him, Hikaru poured a drink for Sasha.

After Pavel's father had invited them to eat, Hikaru muttered a quick, "itadakimasu," and tucked in.

It was delicious!

He wasn't sure what it was called (and wasn't sure he'd be able to pronounce it, even if he was), but it was good. And for some reason, it seemed to taste just a slight bit better after Pavel glanced over and smiled at him.

"So, Mr. Sulu. How ees your family?" Mrs. Chekov inquired.

"The last time I spoke with them they were all doing quite well. I'm actually going to head down to see them for New Year's," the man answered honestly. He wasn't much good at small talk, but he'd try for Pavel's sake.

If only to make the boy look a little less green around the edges.

"Zat ees good," Mr. Chekov said. "Family ees very important."

"I agree," Sulu smiled. "Especially around the holidays. I don't get to see my family that much, so I'm hoping that time doesn't fly."

"Da, family ees wery important," Chekov said quietly, just so his grandfather would stop staring at him.

Dinner continued on in silence for a few minutes. Suddenly, Mrs. Chekov asked, "Do you have a girlfriend, Mr. Sulu?"

Chekov almost spit out his milk.

"Mama! You have no right to ask zat! Zat ees a wery personal question!"

Mrs. Chekov didn't seem to mind her son at all. Instead, her strong gaze was pinned on Sulu, who was fiding it hard to swallow his mouthful of food.

When he had finally succeeded, he met her yes and answered honestly that no, at present he didn't have a girlfriend.

Once again, conversation reached a small lull, with the cousins talking amongst themselves and the adults all chattering.

Then, "Vhat about a boyfriend? Do you have a boyfriend, Mr. Sulu?"

This time Pavel nearly choked on his meat dumpling.

"Ma_ma!_ Net! Do not ask zat, eizer!" The young Russian slammed his hands down on the table, face red. "Zat ees too personal, Mama. You have only just met him."

"Pavel…" his father cautioned, and Chekov turned slighty redder.

"…Please forgive my outburst," he muttered, and directed his gaze sheepishly at his plate.

Now, Sulu had no idea what to do. It really wouldn't have been a problem to answer the question. The answer was no, just the same. After all, it wasn't as if they'd asked him if he _wanted_ a boyfriend.

He didn't know the answer to that.

* * *

I'm sorry I don't have time to answer any of my anon reviews right now, since my mom's giving me the evil eye, but I promise I will reply soon! Have a great winter, everyone, and thanks so much for reading.

May your days be merry and bright,

Tube


	21. To Russia, With Love 2 of ?

I'm so sorry you guys! I've recently been Incepted, so all of my writing has gone to that and I've been ignoring you. This is a sad, short, and probably poorly written peace offering. I'm so sorry.

* * *

After dinner, Chekov led his guest up to a room whose walls were papered with posters of Starfleet ships. Sulu looked around at them all with a smile.

"Is this…_your_ room?" he asked the flushed Russian with a teasing grin.

"…Da. Ees mine. I vas wery interested een Starfleet. I still am."

"Well, that's good. Glad to know actually being in it hasn't eroded any of the splendor." Sulu placed his bag down where Chekov directed and sat down on the cot. "Is it nice to be home?"

"Oh yes. Wery nice. I don't believe I knew how much I missed eet until now. Eet ees wery, _wery_ nice to be home."

A comfortable silence settled over them as they listened to the bustle of people moving around downstairs, accompanied by the dim hum of conversation.

After a few moments, Sulu noticed that Chekov had been sending him quick, shy glances. He always managed to turn away and pretend nothing had happened before Sulu could call him out on it, though.

Finally the young Asian met Chekov's eyes and smiled. "Something you wanted to ask me, Pavel?"

The Russian man flushed scarlet and rapidly shook his head. "Nyet! Ees nothing! Sorry to bother you!"

Soon after that, he went to sleep, leaving Sulu's mind full of questions.

-ooo-

The weeks leading up to Christmas passed in a blur of awkward questions and flustered Russian navigators. It seemed that no matter what question Chekov's parents asked, Pavel always found reasons that Sulu shouldn't have to answer it.

Especially ones about his love life.

Eventually, Hikaru drew Chekov aside to stop the spluttering at the current line of questioning ("So, are you looking for girlfriend?"), and to make something very clear.

"Pavel?"

"…Da, Hikaru? Vhat ees eet?" The Russian fiddled with the hem of his shirt and didn't look Sulu in the eye.

"You know, I'm not going to break if I answer a few questions. You don't need to freak out. It's fine. And besides," he said catching Chekov's chin so he would look at him, "it's not like these aren't the same questions I'll be getting from _my_ family, so just think of this as practice."

"Da, okay," the young Russian agreed, subconsciously leaning his face into Hikaru's hand.

They stood like that for a few moments before they both seemed to come back to their senses. Chekov coughed and stepped back, flushed. Sulu's face colored as well, and he dropped his hand.

"Yeah. So…we okay?" he asked, not sure why he did.

"Da. Everything ees cool."

And they walked back into the living room a calculated distance apart, both wondering what exactly they were feeling.

-ooo-

As the sun set on Christmas Eve, the family gathered together in the living room to light the candles in the windows and put last minute presents under the tree.

When that was done various seats were taken to listen to Chekov's grandmother (who had arrived earlier that week) tell the story of Babushka, and old woman who had gone to see the baby Jesus, only to have just missed him.

Sulu studied Chekov as the story was told. His friends eyes had lit up and were shining almost brighter than the Christmas tree. He smiled, glad to see his friend so happy.

When the story was over, Chekov's grandmother (affectionately called Beba) directed her attention to her grandson's guest.

"So," she began, either not noticing or not caring the Chekov tensed the minute he sensed a Sulu-oriented question, "do you have any traditions een your family around zis time of year?"

Sulu could almost see the relief rolling off of his friend.

"Not especially," he replied with a smile. "My family doesn't celebrate Christmas. Instead, our big winter holiday is New Year's, which everyone goes full-out for."

"Ahh…" she replied, returning his smile and handing him a mug of hot chocolate.

"In fact," Sulu went on, "Christmas Eve in Japan is mostly a day for couples. It's rather romantic. It's kind of like Valentine's Day."

At that, Beba raised her eyebrow and seemed to notice her grandson's growing distress. She had to fight back a chuckle when she noticed his face turning red. Sulu followed her gaze and watched in confusion as Chekov stood up and went into the kitchen without a word.

"I vonder vhat is up vith _him_," Beba said with a knowing smile.

"I'll go and see, if that's all right," Sulu offered, his concern for his friend growing in his chest. Pavel had been acting so oddly these past few days…

Andrei nodded, and Hikaru rose to go talk to his friend. He found Pavel working quietly with Sasha to grind the poppy seeds for the sochivo. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, wondering if now was really the best time to talk to him.

Sasha noticed him lurking first.

"Oh, Mr. Sulu. Did you need something?"

Sulu wished she hadn't said anything as he saw Chekov's shoulders tense.

"I—no. Nothing. I just wanted to see if Pavel was all right." The understanding that flashed in Sasha's eyes kind of unnerved Hikaru. Was he the _only_ one in this house who _didn't_ know what was bothering Pavel?

"Vould you like to talk to him alone?" she asked, ignoring the little squeek of protest from Chekov.

"…No. No, that's all right. I don't want to make him any more uncomfortable than I already have. Please, excuse me for interrupting you." He gave both of them a short bow and left the kitchen. He returned to the living room and addressed Andrei.

"If it is no insult or inconvenience to you, I believe I will retire to bed."

"No, of course not. If you are tired, zen, please, do not let us keep you." He nodded to Sulu, and Sulu bowed back, returning the smiles of everyone in the room.

Then he turned and went upstairs.

After a few moments, Chekov peeked his head out of the kitchen.

"I am ruining everything, da?" he asked sadly. "He ees not having a good wacation. Vas not fun."

"Oh, Pavel, you just need to talk to him," Beba said.

"Da," said Deda. "Zhings vill vork out. You vill see. Eet ees simply a matter of communication."

Pavel sighed disconsolately. "If I vere him, I vould not vant to talk to me."

"He ees probably zinking ze same exact zhing," Pavel's mother countered. "Now go. Before he goes to sleep."

Chekov sighed, but complied, following his friend up the stairs.

Sulu's door was shut when Chekov reached it, and that was almost enough to make the young Russian decide that all of this was just a horrible mistake and that he should go back down to his family. But he was not a coward.

He lifted a hand and knocked twice.

"Hikaru? Ees Pavel. I am sorry for disturbing you, but I vas vondering eef ve could talk."

The silence that greeted him was almost too much.

But after a minute, there was a reply of, "Yeah, just one second, okay?" and then Pavel heared the sound of Sulu's bag's zipper opening and closing.

'_He was undressing,'_ Chekov thought, and cursed the flush that rose to his cheeks at the realization. And then he cursed himself for being eighteen and hormonal, because he had _not_ wanted to speand his entire vacation hiding from the man he'd invited to come to Russia with him.

"Yeah, sorry about that. This _is_ your room, after all," Sulu said, and opened the door a moment later. He was wearing only a pair of sweatpants, but there was a light gray t-shirt in his hand.

For a moment, all Pavel could do was stare.

"Pavel? Are you all right?" Hikaru asked, worried. Maybe his friend was sick. He hoped not, because he didn't want Pavel to be ill for the holidays. And, maybe selfishly, he didn't want Pavel to be sick because it wouldn't be proper for Sulu to cuddle him as things were now.

Wait, what?

"Oh! Yes!" said the Russian, suddenly struck out of his daze. "I hawe come to apologize for making your wacation horrible."

The way glanced down at his feet tore a little at Sulu's heart.

"Pavel, listen. _Hey, _look at me. You haven't made my vacation horrible. I thought I was making _you_ uncomfortable."

"You are!" said Pavel, and then clapped a hand over his mouth. Sulu's eyes widened, and then, to Pavel's horror, saddened a little.

"I'm sorry, then," Sulu said. "If you want, I'll leave tomorrow morning. It won't take long to pack, and I—"

"No!" Chekov said. "No, _I'm_ sorry. I did not mean for it to come out like that. It isn't your fault that I'm uncomfortable. Really. It's me. Really, it's me."

Now Sulu just looked confused.

"I don't understand, Pavel," he sighed. "What's making you uncomfortable, then? I'll stop whatever it is that I'm—"

Chekov kissed him.

* * *

The thing is, it will probably be left there for a long, long time. I'm not that into Start Trek at the moment, and schools just starting up again for this year. Maybe when Christmas rolls around again? I dunno. So sorry! D:

Live long and prosper,

Tube


	22. To Russia, With Love 2 and a half of ?

Okay, everyone, I'm sorry for completely ignoring this story for months, and now all I have to offer you is this REALLY SHORT UPDATE. ...Sorry. But, you know, Merry Christmas. :)

* * *

Sulu stepped back quickly, blinking confusedly. He studied his friend's face for something—_anything. _Chekov's eyes were closed, but not out of happiness. The small lines around the corners told Sulu all he needed to know.

Pavel was scared.

"I—" Sulu began, helplessly, not knowing what to say. But Chekov shook his head quickly.

"No, you do not need to say anyzhing, Hikaru. I'm wery sorry. Please, just forget eet."

The young Russian moved to go, muttering something about arranging another room for Sulu so things wouldn't be awkward as he attenpted to flee back down the hallway, but Sulu lightly grabbed his arm.

It wouldn't be enough to hols him, if he really wanted to go, but Chekov stopped nonetheless.

"Pavel, please. Can we talk about this? Just for a little?" Sulu hoped he didn't sound as confused as he felt—because really, he wasn't sure if that much confusion could fit in only those few words. Slowly, Chekov turned to face him, not meeting his eyes.

"Vhat is zere to say, Hikaru? I am sorry I kissed you. Eet vill not happen again. I am promising."

Sulu's mouth opened and closed a few times before he gently let go of Chekov's wrist.

"I—what if I want it to?"

Chekov's head snapped up so fast his neck cracked.

"You—vait, vhat if you vant _vhat?_" Eyes wide, Chekov stared. And stared.

And _stared_.

Sulu cleared his throat and rubbed at the back of his neck anxiously. "Well, I mean…It would be okay with me if it did?"

"If…" Chekov swallowed. "If I…"

"…Yes."

Chekov did not relax. However, he stopped looking so much like he was going to peg it down the hallway and run screaming out into the night. Sulu noted it as a marked improvement.

"You…you do not vant to punch me? I vas expecting—"

"_No,_ I'm not going to _punch you_, Pavel." Sulu smiled at him, trying to get him to smile back, because that idea was _ridiculous_.

Eventually, Chekov's face lifted into a bright smile.

"Does zis—does zis mean zat we are…vell, you know…" The Russian shuffled his feet and ducked his head, looking hopefully up at Sulu.

Sulu chuckled. "You know, I don't think we've said a complete sentence to each other all night." Then, he gently took a hold of Chekov's arm and pulled him close, dropping a kiss onto his forehead.

"Merry Christmas, Pavel."

* * *

I hope everyone has a great winter, and I'll try to get more of this up soon. :)

Thanks!


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